O > /. * (, s \ v 



f 





V- «2 * . «1 



5f 



PAGE 

Mute Loye 1 

The Nymph of the Fountain 37 

Peter Block 63 

The Three Sisters * 79 

r.ichilda . 107 

Roland's Squires 125 

Legends of Kueezahl: — 

I. The Princess's Flight 146 

II. The Rescued Lover 151 

III. The Countryman and his Family 1G1 



I 

/ 




In a Series like the present, intended chiefly for the purposes of 
sscreation, and including a considerable number of translations from 
foreign writers, we should hardly have been pardoned for passing over 
the Popular Tales of Musaeus, which have so long been established 
favourites in their own country. The present Yolunie contains such a 
selection from the whole Series as seemed best fitted for the general 
English reader ; and,— in order to adapt the Stories as much as possible 
to popular use, — in several places, where the original was thought 
somewhat prolix, the Editor has not. scrupled to use his judgment in 
condensing them. 1 In particular, the first Legend of. Eiibezahl will be 
found to be rather a summary of the Story than a translation; the 
object of inserting it in this collection, indeed, being chiefly to serve as 
an introduction to the two Tales which follow. 

Musaeus must not be looked upon as much more than an amusing 
writer; nor, indeed, does he profess to write with any high moral 
purpose ; still, to those who are disposed to find it, a moral may, 
without much difficulty, be deduced from many of his Tales. We may 
observe, for instance, the hardening effects of vanity and pride in the 
case of the wicked Eichilda ; and, again, in the story of the " 2s ymph 

1 To those who wish to peruse these Tales in their full form, we may mention a 
handsome English edition, now publishing by Cundall, and the German illustrated 
edition of 1S42, published at Leipzig; from which last the wood-cuts in this selection 
have been borrowed. 



vi 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



of the Fountain/' we see the sad results of an easy credulity on the part 
of the Count, who listens but too readily to the false accusations against 
his wife ; while invisible powers are watching over her safety, and at 
last vindicate her innocence at the moment of her extreme peril. 

We need hardly remark, that the sources of these stories are to be 
found in the popular legends with which Germany abounds, and many of 
which are known in our own country with more or less variation. The 
author's manner of treating them, however, is so original and inge- 
nious, that we almost forget that we have known them before : an 
old acquaintance may be said to meet us, in the pages of Musaeus, 
with all the freshness and interest of entire novelty ; and we may well 
forget that the tale of " Roland's Squires " is but an embellished 
version of the simple legend of the " Three Soldiers and the Dwarf,"— 
"Kichilda" of " Snowdrop," — " The Nymph of the Fountain" of 
" Catskin," and so on. For these legends in their unadorned state, we 
may refer to Grimm's famous "Kinder and Hausmarch,en," or to 
"Household Tales and Traditions" (in this Series), where the greater 
part of them will be found. These Stories are so captivating in their 
original form, that we almost regret, at first, that any attempt should 
be made to embellish them ; and, indeed, nothing but the wit and 
cleverness of a Musaeus, or, on the other hand, the poetry and deep 
earnestness of a Tieck, could compensate for the loss of their simple 
beauty. However, we believe they may be relished in both ways ; and, 
without further preface, we commend the following specimens to the 
reader. 






HERE was once a 
wealthy merchant, 
called Melchior of 
Bremen, who always 
used to stroke his chin with a kind 
of complacence when he heard the 
parable of the rich man in the Gos- 
pel read, whom, in comparison with himself, 
he considered but a poor shopkeeper. Such, 
indeed, was his wealth, that he had the 
floor of his banqueting - room paved with 
dollars ; for luxury, though of a more sub- 
stantial kind, was prevalent in those rude 
times, as well as now : and while his friends 



2 



POPULAR TALES. 



and fellow-citizens were not much pleased at such a proof of his 
ostentation, yet it was, in fact, intended more as a mercantile spe- 
culation than for idle display. He was sagacious enough to see 
that reports would go abroad of his excessive wealth, which would 
greatly add to his credit even among those who censured his 
vanity. This was exactly the case ; his idle capital of old dollars, 
so prudently as well as ostentatiously employed, brought large 
returns of interest: it was a visible bond of payment which gave 
vigour to all the wily merchant's undertakings. Yet, in the end, 
it proved the rock upon which the stability of his house was 
wrecked. 

Melchior one day partaking rather too freely of a rich liquor 
at a city feast, died suddenly, without having time even to 
make his will. His son, however, having just attained the age 
of manhood, succeeded to the whole of the property. Franz 
was a noble-spirited youth, endowed with many excellent qua- 
lities. Health glowed on his cheek, while content and anima- 
tion shone in his dark eyes. He grew like a vigorous plant, 
which only requires water and a hardier soil to bear noble fruit, 
but which shoots to waste in too luxuriant ground. The father's 
prosperity, as is often the case, was unhappily the son's ruin; for 
no sooner did Franz find himself possessed of so princely a for- 
tune, than he contrived how he could best get rid of it : and 
instead of smiling in scorn at the rich man in the parable, he 
imitated his example only too closely. He feasted in the most 
sumptuous manner, and altogether forgot his duties in the con- 
tinual round of pleasure into which he had plunged himself. 

No feasts could be compared for superfluity and splendour with 
those he gave, nor will the good city of Bremen ever behold such 
substantial and magnificent proofs of hospitality, as long as it 
is a city, again; each citizen was presented with a fine joint of 
roast beef, with a flask of Spanish wine ; the people drank to the 
health and long life of old Melchior's son, and young Franz 
became the hero of the day. 

In this giddy maze of delights, no wonder he never thought 
of a balance of accounts, then the "vade mecum" of our old 
merchants, but since unfortunately gone too much out of fashion. 
Hence the evident tendency of the modern system towards heavy 
losses and utter bankruptcy, as if the scale were drawn down by 
magnetic influence. Still the old merchant's coffers had been so 
well stocked as to give his son no sort of uneasiness ; hitherto his 
difficulty was rather how to dispose of his annual income. Open 
house, well-furnished tables, and throngs of parasites, loungers, 
&c, left our hero small time for reflection; one kind of pleasure 
followed another ; his friends took care to provide a succession of 
extravagances lest he should pause, and think, and thus the prey 
should be snatched from their plundering grasp. 

Suddenly the stream of prosperity ceased to flow; Franz 



MUTE I.OYK. 



found lie bad drained his lather's money-casks to their very lees. 
He ordered his steward one day to pay a large sum : he was not, 
however, in a condition to meet the demand, and he returned the 
bill. This was a severe reflection upon the young spendthrift ; 
but he flew into a violent passion with his cashier, instead of 
blaming himself. He gave himself no kind of trouble to inquire 
into the cause; like too many thoughtless characters, he heaped 
reproaches upon his steward, and shrugging up his shoulders, 
ordered him, in very laconic style, to " find means ! " 

Now was the time for the old usurers and brokers of the city. 
They furnished Franz with means to continue his mad career, 
though on very exorbitant terms. In the eye of a creditor, a room 
well paved with dollars was then better security than bills upon 
an American house, or even upon the United Provinces. It served 
as a good palliative for a period ; but it shortly got wind that the 
silver pavement had disappeared, and was replaced with one of 
stone. Judicial inquiry on the part of the creditors followed, and 
it was ascertained to be the fact. No one could deny that a floor 
of variegated marble, like mosaic, was more elegant for a ban- 
queting-hall than one of old worn-out dollars ; but the creditors, 
entertaining little reverence for his improved taste, one and all 
demanded their money. This not being paid, a commission of 
bankruptcy was issued against him ; and forthwith an inventory 
was made of all the property, — the family mansion, the magazines, 
grounds, gardens, furniture, &c. All was then put up to auction, 
and Franz found himself deprived of all he possessed. He had 
saved a few of his mother's jewels, however, from the general 
wreck, and with the help of these he contrived to prolong existence 
for a period, though not in a very enviable manner. 

He now saw clearly through his past errors. He lamented and 
repented of his faults, and tried his best to resign himself to his 
altered lot. He took up his abode in a retired quarter of the 
city where the sunbeams seldom shone, except towards the 
longest day, when they occasionally glanced over the high-built 
roofs. Here he found all he looked for in his present reduced cir- 
cumstances. He dined at his host's frugal board ; his fire-side 
was a protection against the cold ; and he had a roof to shelter 
him from the effects of rain and wind: here, too, a new object 
awakened his attention and engaged his thoughts. Opposite his 
window, in the same narrow street, lived a respectable widow, 
who, in expectation of better times, gained a scanty livelihood, by 
means of her spinning-wheel, on which, with the assistance of a 
marvellously fair maiden, her only daughter, she produced every- 
day such a quantity of yarn that it would have reached round the 
whole city of Bremen, ditch, walls, suburbs and all. These two 
spinners were not born for the wheel; they came of a good family, 
and had lived, at one time, in opulence and prosperity. The 
husband of Brigitta, and the father of young Mela, had been the 

B 



4 



POPULAR TALES. 



owner of a merchant-vessel, which he freighted himself, and in 
which he made every year a voyage to Antwerp. But while 
Mela was yet a child, a dreadful storm buried him and his ship, 
with the crew and a rich cargo, in the waves. 

Her mother, a sensible well-principled woman, bore the loss of 
her husband and of her whole property with wise composure. 
Notwithstanding her poverty, she refused, with a noble pride, all 
the offers of assistance which the compassion or benevolence of 
her friends and relations prompted them to make ; deeming it dis- 
honourable to receive ahns, as long as she could hope to obtain 
the means of subsistence by the labour of her hands. She resigned 
her large house and its costly furniture to the hard-hearted credi- 
tors of her late husband, took her present humble dwelling, and 
spun from morning till night. At first this occupation appeared 
very irksome, and she often moistened the thread with her tears. 
By her industry, however, she was enabled to preserve herself 
independent, and to save herself from incurring unpleasant obliga- 
tions; she accustomed her daughter to the same mode of life, and 
lived so sparingly that she even saved a small sum, which she 
laid out in buying lint ; and, from that time, carried on a trade in 
that article on a small scale. 

This excellent woman, woman, however, whilst doing her best 
in her poor circumstances, nevertheless ventured to look forward 
to better times, hoping one day to be restored to something of 
that prosperity she had been deprived of, and to enjoy, in the 
autumn of her life, some of that sunshine which had gladdened 
its spring. Nor was this hope altogether an empty dream ; it 
sprung from rational observation. She saw her daughter's charms 
unfold as she grew up, like a blooming rose, but not like it to 
fade and fall as soon as it is ripened into beauty. She knew her 
to be modest and virtuous, and gifted with such excellent qua- 
lities, that she already found in her society consolation and happi- 
ness. She therefore denied herself, sometimes, the common 
necessaries of life, to give her daughter the advantage of a 
respectable education ; being convinced that, if a maiden only 
answered the description which Solomon has given of a good 
wife, such a costly pearl would be sought after, and selected as 
the brightest ornament an honest man could possess. 

Virtue, united with beauty, were then quite as valuable in the 
eyes of young men, as powerful relations and a large fortune are 
at present. There were, likewise, a far greater number of com- 
petitors for a maiden's hand, a wife being then considered as the 
most essential, and not as (according to the present refined econo- 
mical theory) the most unnecessary part of the household. The 
beauteous Mela, it is true, bloomed more like a rare costly plant 
in a greenhouse, than a healthy shrub in the free air. She lived 
quietly, and in retirement, under her mother's care and protec- 
tion ; visited neither the public walks, nor assembly-rooms, and, 



MUTE LOVE. 



5 



contrary to all the present principles of marryinc policy, scarcely 
once in a twelvemonth went outside of her nati ' city. Mothers, 
now-a-days, know better ; they look upon daughters as 

a capital, which must circulate to prodir merest: in those 
times, they were kept under lock and key. hoarded treasure ; 
but bankers knew where it was hidden, aj now to obtain it. 

One day, as Franz was at the windots observing the weather, 
he saw the beautiful Mela returnir . &on\ church, where she 
regularly accompanied her mother service. In his days of 
prosperity, he had paid little or f attention to the other sex ; 
the chords of his finer feelings -d never yet been struck, his 
senses having been blunted V - bewildered by the incessant 
intoxication of pleasure, in m$&h his companions had kept him. 

Now, however, that he &*d become a wiser and better man, 
the stormy waves of youthful turbulence were still, and the 
slightest breeze ruffled t^e mirror-like surface of his soul. He 
was enchanted at the e-gnt of the most lovely woman he had ever 
seen ! and he bes" - questioning his landlord concerning his 
fair neighbour, an^ ner mother, from whom he learnt the greater 
part of what the leader already knows. 

He now felt still more vexed with himself for his wasteful 
extravagance, as it had deprived him of the means of providing 
handsomely for the lovely Mela, which his growing inclination 
would have prompted him to do. His miserable lodgings now 
appeared a palaceto him, and he would not have exchanged them 
for the best house in Bremen. He passed great part of his time 
at the window, watching for his beloved; and, when she appeared, 
he felt a keener sensation of pleasure than the astronomer expe- 
rienced, who first saw Venus pass over the sun's disk. Unfor- 
tunately for him, the careful mother was vigilant in her observations, 
and soon discovered the cause of his constant presence at the 
window. As he was none of her favourites, on account of his 
former behavicur, she was so much offended at his continual 
watching and staring, that she kept her window-curtains close 
drawn, and desired Mela never to appear at the window. When 
she took her to church, she put a thick veil over her face, and 
hurried round the corner as fast as she could to screen her trea- 
sure from the unhallowed gaze of our hero. 

Poor Franz was not famous for his penetration ; but love 
awakens all our faculties. He perceived that he had given offence 
by his intruding looks, and immediately retreated from the win- 
dow. He now employed all his invention to find out the means 
of continuing his observations unseen, in which he succeeded 
without much trouble. He hired the largest looking-glass he 
could get, and hung it up in his room in such a manner that it 
reflected every thing which passed in the opposite room of his 
fair neighbour. For many days he never showed himself, till, at 
length, the curtains were drawn back by degrees, and the mirror 



6 



POPULAR TALES. 



sometimes ret i V ed and reflected the beautiful form of the maiden 
to the great dei -htof its possessor. As love rooted itself deeper 
in his heart, his lesire to make his feelings known to Mela grew 
stronger, and ggp ^solved, if possible, to learn the state of her 
heart towards him. 

It was, indeed, mx \ more difficult in those modest times for 
youths to get introdu ->d to the daughters of a family than at 
present ; and Franz's fon v n condition added to those difficulties. 
Notwithstanding this, ho\ V er, things took their course as well 
then as now. Christenings eddings, and burials, especially in 
a city like Bremen, were the yileged occasions for negotiating 
love affairs ; as the old provei <ays, " No marriage takes place 
but another is planned." An im ± perished spendthrift, however, 
not being a desirable son, or brothc_in-law, our hero w r as invited 
neither to weddings, christenings, no* burials. The by-ways of 
influencing the lady's-maid, waiting-w >man, or some other "sub- 
ordinate personage, was, in Franz's case, "Mkewise blocked up, for 
mother Brigitta kept neither one nor \ ? other ; she carried 
on her little trade in lint and yarn hersen, and was nearly as 
inseparable from her daughter as her shadow. 

Under such circumstances, it was impossible for Franz to open 
his heart to his beloved, either by speaking ot writing ; but he 
soon invented a language which seems express^ intended for the 
idiom of lovers. The honour of being the first inventor does not, 
indeed, belong to our hero ; long before his time, the sentimental 
Celadons of Italy and Spain were in the habit of chanting forth 
the feelings of their hearts, under the balconies of their donnas. 
Their melodious pathos, more powerful than xhe eloquence of 
Cicero, or Demosthenes, rarely failed in its aim, and not only 
expressed the lover's feelings, but was usually successful in 
exciting in the object of his flame similar warm and tender 
emotions. 

In a doleful hour, therefore, he seized his lute, aid calling forth 
strains that far surpassed his usual powers, in about a month he 
made such rapid progress, that he might very well have been 
admitted to play an accompaniment to Amphion. To be sure, 
his sweetest melodies were at first little noticed, but, ere long, 
they attracted the admiration of the whole neighbourhood ; for, 
the moment he touched his lute, mothers succeeded in quieting 
their children, the riotous little urchins ran away from the doors, 
and, at length, he had the delight of beholding a white hand open 
the window opposite, when he began to prelude an air. Having 
so far gained Mela's ear, he played several happy and triumphant 
strains, as if to express his joy; but when her mother's presence 
or other occupations deprived him of her sight, his sorrow broke 
forth in mournful tones, expressive of the agony of disappointed 
affection. 

Mela proved an apt pupil, and soon acquired a knowledge of 



MUTE LOVE. 7 

the new language. Indeed, she often made an experiment, to 
learn whether she interpreted it correctly, and invariably found 
that she could influence the invisible musician's tones according 
to her own feelings. Mild and modest young maidens are more 
correct in observation, and possess quicker perceptions than those 
wild careless creatures, sporting from object to object, like a 
simple butterfly, without fixing long upon any. Fair Mela's 
vanity was somewhat flattered at finding she could bring just such 
strains as she liked best, whether mournful or merry, from her 
young neighbour's lute. 

Occupied with trade, her mother paid no kind of attention to 
the music ; and her daughter did not think it necessary to impart 
her late observations. She rather wished, either from inclination, 
or as a proof of her sagacity, to show that she understood, and 
also knew how to reply to the symbolical language, in some other 
way that would disco ver equal skill. With this view, she requested 
her mother to permit her to place a few flower-pots in the win- 
dow, and the good lady no longer observing the prying young 
neighbour, and dreaming of no possibility of any harm, easily 
gave her permission. Now, to attend to all these flowers, to 
water, to bind them up to the sticks, and to watch their progress 
in leafing, and budding, and flowering, brought m i'. j c;^ 
tress very often to the window. It was now the happy lover's 
turn to explain these hieroglyphics, and he never failed to send 
his joyous greetings across the way to the attentive ear of his 
, isweet young gardener, through the medium of his lute. This, at 
length, began to make a powerful impression on her young heart ; 
and she felt vexed at her mother for calling him a spendthrift, a 
very worthless fellow, which she took great pleasure in repeating 
during their conversations after dinner; sometimes even com- 
paring him to the prodigal son. Poor Mela, though with great 
caution, would venture to take his part, ascribing his follies to 
youthful indiscretion, and the seductions of bad companions ; 
adding, " that now that he had had time for reflection, he had, in 
ill probability, become a reformed character." 

Meanwhile the youth, whom the old lady was so busily reviling 
tft home, was indulging only the kindest feelings towards her, re- 
iecting in what way, as far as his situation would permit, he could 
)est improve her circumstances. His motive, to be sure, was rather 
;o assist the young than the old lady by his gifts. He had just 
obtained secret information that her mother had refused Mela a 
lew dress, under pretence of bad times. Apprehensive lest a 
)resent from an unknown would be refused, and that all his hopes 
night be blasted were he to name the donor, it was only by chance 
hat he was relieved from this awkward dilemma, and the affair 
ucceeded according to his wishes. He heard thaf Mela's mother 
lad been complaining to a neighbour that the crop of flax having 
♦roved so small, it had cost her more than her customers would 

B 3 



8 



POPULAR TALES. 



pay her again, and that this branch of the trade was become 
wholly unprofitable. Franz directly hastened to a goldsmith's, 
sold a pair of his mother's gold earrings, and purchasing a quan- 
tity of lint, sent it by a woman to offer it to his neighbour at a 
more moderate price. The bargain was concluded, and on such 
good terms, that on next All Saints' Day the lovely Mela was 
seen in an elegant new dress. 

At the moment our hero was congratulating himself on the 
success of his stratagem, it was unluckily discovered. For mother 
Brigitta, desirous of doing a kindness to the good woman who 
had served her in the sale of the lint, invited her to a treat, very 
common in those days, before tea and coffee were known, of rice- 
milk, made very savoury with sugar, richly spiced, and a bottle 
of Spanish wine. Such a repast not only set the old lady's lips 
in motion, as she sipped and sipped, but likewise loosened her 
tongue. She declared she would provide more lint at the same 
price, granting her merchant would prove agreeable ; which, for 
the best of reasons, she could not doubt. The lady and her 
daughter very naturally inquired further, until their female curi- 
osity was gratified at the expense of the old woman's discretion, 
and she revealed the whole secret. Mela changed colour, not a 
little alarmed.. the discovery; though she would have been 
deaghted had her mother not been present. Aware of her strict 
notions of propriety, she began to tremble for her new gown. 
The good lady was, indeed, both shocked and displeased at so 
unexpected a piece of intelligence, and wished as much as her 
daughter that she alone had been made acquainted with it, lest 
their young neighbour's liberality, by making an impression on 
the girl's heart, might eventually thwart all her plans. She 
forthwith determined to adopt such measures as should eradicate 
every seed of budding affection which might be lurking in Mela's 
heart. Spite of the tears and entreaties of its possessor, the gown 
was next day sold, and the proceeds, together with the profits of 
her late bargain, returned under the pretence of an old debt, by 
the hand of the Hamburg trading messenger, to young Mr. Franz 
Melchior. He received the packet as an especial blessing on the 
part of Providence, and only hoped that all the debtors of his 
father's house might be induced to discharge their debts with as 
much punctuality as the honest unknown. The truth never 
glanced across his mind ; for the gossiping old body was careful 
not to betray her own treachery, merely informing him that 
Madame Brigitta had wholly discontinued the lint trade. His 
more faithful mirror, however, shortly told him that a great 
change had occurred in the opposite dwelling in the course of a \ 
single night. The flower-pots had vanished, and the blinds were I 
drawn down even closer than before. Mela was rarely to be 
seen ; and when she did appear, like the lovely moon, gleaming 
through a mass of dark clouds on the benighted traveller, her I 



MUTE LOVE. 9 

eyes were downcast, she looked as if she had been weeping, and 
he fancied he saw her wipe a tear away. The sight of her filled 
his heart with sorrow ; he took his lute, and in soft Lydian 
measures expressed the language of his grief. Then he tried to 
discover the source of her anxiety, but here he was quite at a 
loss. Not many days afterwards he remarked that his looking- 
glass was useless : it no longer reflected the form of his beloved. 
On examining more minutely into the cause, he found that the 
curtains had been removed ; that the rooms were not inhabited ; 
his neighbours had left the place in perfect silence only the even- 
ing before. 

Now, alas ! he might approach the window, inhale the fresh 
air, and gaze as much as he pleased. But what was all this to 
him — to him, who had just lost sight of the dearest object on the 
face of the earth ! On first recovering from the trying shock, he 
was led to make many sage reflections ; and, among others, the 
painful one that he had been the cause of their flight. The sum 
of money he had received, the cessation of the lint trade, and the 
departure, — each seemed to throw light upon the other. It 
occurred to him, that Madame Brigitta must have discovered his 
secret; that he was no favourite with her, and that this was no 
kind of encouragement. Yet the symbolic language he had held 
with the fair maiden herself, — the flowers and the music, seemed to 
revive his spirit. No ! he was sure she did not hate him ; — her 
melancholy, and the tears he had seen her shed, not long before 
she went, served to restore his confidence and courage. Of course, 
his first effort was to find out the ladies' new residence, in order 
to renew, by some means or other, his delightful intercourse with 
the lovely Mela. This he soon accomplished ; but he was grown 
too prudent to follow them, contenting himself with frequenting 
the same church, whither they went to hear mass, and never 
omitting to meet them, sometimes in one place, and sometimes 
in another, on their return. He would then find opportunities 
of greeting Mela kindly, which was about as gratifying as a 
billet-doux. 

Yet both were mute : neither had exchanged a single word, 
though they as perfectly comprehended each other as any lan- 
guage could have made them do. Both vowed in their inmost 
hearts to preserve the strictest secrecy and fidelity, and never 
even to dream of forgetting one another. 

Directly opposite to their humble lodgings lived an opulent 
brewer, whom the witlings of the day chose to call the King of 
Hops, on account of his great wealth. He was a spruce young 
widower, whose time of mourning was just drawing to a close, 
and who, without offending the laws of decorum, might now look 
out for a second helpmate. 

Scarcely had he seen the fair Mela, than he formed his deter- 
mination. Early the next morning he made himself as smart as 



10 



POPULAR TALES. 



possible, and sallied forth on his marriage business. He had 
no taste for music, and was ignorant of all the secret symbols and 
expressions of love ; but his brewery was extensive ; he had, 
besides, a large capital lent out at interest, a ship in the Weser, 
and a farm near the town. With such recommendations, he 
might well look for success, especially with a maiden who had no 
marriage portion. 

According to the old custom, he went immediately to mother 
Brigitta, and, like a kind and affectionate neighbour, declared to 
her the honest intentions he had, in respect to her virtuous 
daughter. The appearance of an angel could not have delighted 
the good old lady more than this joyful piece of news. She now 
saw her well-laid plans about to be accomplished, and her long 
deferred hopes gratified. She blessed the circumstances that in- 
duced her to leave her former habitation ; and, in the first spring 
of joy, looking on Franz as partly the cause of this, she thought 
with kindness even of him. Though he had never been a favourite 
with her, still she promised herself to make him, by some means 
or other, a sharer in her prosperity. 

In her heart, she regarded the marriage articles as already 
signed, but decency required her to take some time for deliberation 
in so weighty an affair ; she therefore thanked the honourable 
suitor for his good intentions; promised to consult with her 
daughter on his proposal; and to give him, as she hoped, a 
favourable answer at the end of eight days. With this, he seemed 
very well pleased, and politely took his leave. 

He had scarcely turned his back, when the spinning-wheel, 
spite of its faithful services, was banished as useless lumber. 
When Mela returned from church, she was astonished at observ- 
ing this sudden alteration in their parlour, where every thing had 
been put in order, as if it were some great festival of the church. 
But she was still more astonished at observing her mother, who 
was unusually industrious, sitting idle on a week-day, and smiling 
in such a way as to show she had not met with any disaster. Be- 
fore she could ask her, however, about this change in the house, 
the latter gave an explanation of the miracle. Conviction was in 
her own heart, and a stream of female eloquence flowed from her 
lips, as she described, in the most glowing colours she could find 
in the range of her imagination, the happiness which awaited 
them. She expected from her daughter the gentle blush of 
modesty, and then a complete resignation to her will. For, in 
those times, daughters were exactly in the same situation as to 
marriage, as princesses at present. Their inclinations were never 
consulted, and they had nothing further to say in the choice of 
their husbands, than to give their assent at the altar. 

Mother Brigitta, however, was much mistaken in her expecta- 
tions ; the fair Mela, far from blushing like a rose at this unex- 
pected piece of news, grew pale as death, and fell fainting into her 



MUTE LOVE. 



11 



mother's arms. After she had been called to life and conscious- 
ness, her eyes "were suffused with tears, as if a great misfortune 
had befallen her. The experienced matron was soon convinced 
that the offer of the rich brewer was not received with a willing 
heart by her daughter, at which she was much astonished, and 
spared neither prayers nor advice in her endeavours to persuade 
Mela not to neglect this opportunity of acquiring a rich husband. 
But Mela was not to be persuaded that her happiness depended 
upon a match, to which her heart denied its assent. 

Her mother's wishes and persuasions in the mean time affected 
her so powerfully, that she faded away like a blighted flower. 
Grief guawed at her heart; sleep came not to quiet and to soothe 
her ; she fell dangerously ill, and demanded the priest to con- 
fess her, and give her the sacrament. The tender mother thus 
saw the pillar of her hopes give way; she reflected that she 
might lose her daughter, and resolved, after mature consi- 
deration, that it would be wiser to resign the present flattering 
prospect than run the risk of hurrying her child to an early 
grave; she, therefore, gave up her own wishes to gratify those 
of her daughter. It cost her many a severe pang to decline 
such an advantageous alliance; but she at length submitted, like 
a good mother, to the superior authority of the dear child, and 
even gave up reproaching her. When the ready widower appeared 
on the appointed day, to his astonishment he met with a refusal, 
sweetened however with so much politeness, that it was like 
wormwood covered with sugar. He soon resigned himself to his 
fate, and was no more affected than if a bargain for malt had been 
broken off. Indeed, he had no reason to despair; his native city 
has never experienced any want of amiable maidens, well qualified 
to make excellent wives ; and, in spite of this failure, before the 
end of the month, he had selected and obtained the hand of one 
of them in marriage. 

Brigitta was now obliged to bring back the exiled spinning- 
wheel, and to put it once more into activity. Every thing soon 
returned to its usual course. Mela recovered her health, her 
bloom, and her cheerfulness ; she was active at her work, and went 
regularly to church. But her mother could not conceal her grief 
at the destruction of her favourite plan. She became peevish, 
discontented, and melancholy. On the day on which the king of 
hops celebrated his wedding, she was particularly uneasy. When 
the festive train moved on towards the church, accompanied by 
all the pipers and trumpeters of the city, she sighed and groaned, 
as at the hour when she first heard that the raging waves had 
swallowed her husband and all his fortune. Mela saw the bridal 
i'estivi ties with great composure; even the beautiful jewels, the 
precious stones in the bridal crown, and the nine rows of large 
pearls round the neck of the bride, could not disturb her quiet, 
T ,vhich is rather astonishing, as a new bonnet from Paris, or some 



12 



POPULAR TALES. 



other fashionable trifle is sufficient, at times, to disturb the 
domestic peace of whole families. Nothing diminished her hap- 
piness, but the grief of her kind mother. 

Towards the evening, when the dance began, Brigitta exclaimed, 
iC Oh my daughter, you might at this moment have been leading 
this dance ! But you have turned away from fortune when she 
?miled on vou, and now I shall not live to accompanv you to the 
altar." 

" Confide in Heaven, my dear mother/' answered Mela, " as I 
must ; — if it is ordained that I shall go to the altar, you will live 
to adorn me with the bridal garment, and, when the right suitor 
comes, my heart will soon assent." 

" Ah ! child," replied the prudent mother, " portionless maidens 
are not much sought after; they must accept those who will have 
them. Young men are, in our days, more selfish than otherwise; 
they only marry when it suits themselves, and never think of the 
bashfulness of others. The heavens are not favourable to you, 
the planets have been consulted, and they are seldom auspicious 
to those born as you were in April. Let us see what says the 
almanack? ' Maidens born in this month bear kindly pleasant 
countenances, and are of a slender form, but they are changeable 
in their inclinations, like the weather, and must guard well the 
virgin mood. When a smiling suitor comes, let them not reject 
his offer.' See how well that answers! The suitor has come, 
and you have rejected his offer, and none will come again." 

" Dear mother, heed not what the planet says ! my heart whispers 
me that I ought to love and honour the man whom I wed ; and if 
I rind no such man, or am sought by none, then let me remain 
single. I can maintain myself by my own hands. I will learn to 
be both content and happy ; and nurse you in your old age, as a 
good daughter ought. Yet, if the man of my heart should come, 
mother, oh! then bless us both; and inquire not whether he be 
great, honoured, and wealthy, but whether he is virtuous and 
good; and if he loves, and is beloved. " 

" Love, my poor daughter, keeps but a scanty table; it is not 
enough to live upon." 

" But where love is, mother, there peace and content will abide ; 
yes, and convert the simplest fare into luxuries too." — So inex- 
haustible a topic kept the ladies awake as long as the fiddles con- 
tinued to play, nor could Madame Brigitta help suspecting that 
Mela's magnanimity, which, in the bloom of youth and beauty, 
made her hold riches in such slight estimation, must be owing to 
some secret attachment previously formed. She, moreover, sus- 
oected its object, though she had never before entertained the idea 
that the hut merchant in the narrow street occupied a place in her 
daughter's heart. She had considered him merely in the light of 
an extravagant youth, who made a point of gallanting every 
young creature that came in his way. The prospect before her 



MUTE LOVE. 



IS 



gave her very little pleasure, but she held her peace. Agreeably 
to her strict notions of propriety, she believed that a young maid 
who allowed love to enter her heart previous to marriage, was no 
better than cankered fruit, very well to look at, but with a maggot 
within. She thought it might do very well to decorate a chimney- 
piece, though it had lost its intrinsic flavour, and was of no kind 
of use. Henceforth, then, the poor old lady despaired of ever 
resuming her lost station in her native city ; resigned herself, like 
a good Christian, to her lot, being resolved to say nothing to her 
daughter on the subject — least said, the soonest mended. 

Tidings of Mela's refusal of the wealthy brewer having speedily 
gone abroad, shortly came to the ears of Franz, who felt quite 
overjoyed. He was no longer tortured with the suspicion lest 
some rich rival should supplant him in Mela's heart. He felt that 
he had ground for hope, and knew how to solve the problem which 
puzzled so many wise inhabitants of the city of Bremen. Love 
had metamorphosed a poor youth into an excellent musician, but 
unfortunately that character was not a very strong recommendation 
for a lover in those times ; for it derived neither as much honour 
nor emolument as now. " Oh, dear Mela," he cried, " would that 
I had known you sooner, you would have become my guardian 
angel ; you would have saved me from utter ruin ! Ah, could I 
recall the years that are sped ! could I be again what I was, when 
I began my mad career, the world would look like a paradise, and 
I would make it a paradise for you ! Noble girl ! you are sacri- 
ficing yourself for a wretch and a beggar — one who has lost all, 
but a heart torn with love and agony ; — he cannot offer you a 
destiny worthy of your virtue." He then smote his forehead, in 
a fit of passion, reproaching himself as a thoughtless, wilful being, 
whose repentance had come too late. 

Despondency, however, was not the sole result of his reflections. 
The powers of his mind were put into action ; he became am- 
bitious of altering his present condition, and he was resolved to 
try what exertion and activity would effect. Among other plans 
that occurred to him, the most rational and promising appeared 
to be> to examine into his father's accounts, in order to see what 
debts were still due to the house. With such remnants of a 
princely fortune, should he be lucky enough to recover them, he 
trusted he might be enabled to lay the groundwork of another, if 
not as large as that he had lost, yet enough for the happiness and 
support of life. He resolved to employ the money he recovered 
in some business, which he hoped would increase by degrees, until, 
as he flattered himself, his ships would visit all parts of the world. 
But he found that many of the debts were due from persons re- 
siding at a distance, and that he would have a better chance of 
succeeding, were he to wait upon the parties in person, and claim 
his own. Accordingly, to effect this, he sold his father's gold 
watch, the last remains of his inheritance, in order to purchase a 



14 



POPULAIi TALKS, 



horse which was to carry him to his debtors, under the title of a 
Bremen merchant, 

All that he regretted, was his departure from his beloved Mela. 
"What will she say to my sudden disappearance? I shall no 
longer meet her coming home from church; she rail perhaps 
think me faithless, and banish me from her heart for ever !" Such 
ideas made him very uneasy, and, for some time, he could discover 
no means to inform her of his real intentions. Ingenious love at 
length supplied him with the happy notion of having prayers put 
up for the success of his journey in the church, which Mela and 
her mother generally frequented, and thus they would no longer 
remain ignorant of his object. With this view he gave the priest a 
small sum, begging that a daily prayer might be offered for a 
young man compelled to go abroad upon business, as well as for 
the success of his undertaking. The same prayer was to be con- 
tinued until his return, when it was his intention to purchase a 
thanksgiving. 

On meeting Mela for the last time, he was in his travelling 
dress. He passed quite close to her ; saluted her in a more 
marked manner than usual, which brought the eloquent blood 
into the lovely girl's cheeks. Her mother scolded, made many 
unpleasant remarks, and expressed her dislike of him in no very 
guarded terms. She declared that such impertinence would injure 
her daughter's reputation, and spite of her vow to keep silence, 
she never dropped the subject during the whole of that day. 
Young Franz, however, had taken his leave of the good city of 
Bremen, and the most lovely eyes might now wander in search of 
him in vain. 

Mela went to church, and heard her lover's prayer repeated 
very often ; and, in truth, it was in some degree intended for her 
ears. Yet she paid little attention to it, such was her grief for the 
disappearance of her lover. The very words that would have ex- 
plained it, escaped her ear, and she was at a loss what to think of 
it. In the course of a month or two, when her sorrow was a 
little abated, and his absence grew less trying, she had been, for the 
first time, paying attention to the words of the prayer, and com- 
paring them with other circumstances, she suddenly guessed their 
meaning, wondering at her own stupidity in not sooner discover- 
ing it, and at the same time praising her lover's ingenious 
notion. 

Franz, meanwhile, was pursuing his way towards Antwerp, 
where his father's debtors chiefly resided, and where he hoped to 
recover some considerable sums. Such a journey, from Bremen 
to Antwerp was, in those days, more formidable than one from 
Bremen to Kamschatka in the present. The peace just proclaimed 
by the Emperor Maximilian was so little observed, that the public 
roads were in all parts infested with nobles and knights, who in- 
variably despoiled the poor travellers who refused to purchase a 



safe passage from them, and frequently subjected them, in sub- 
terraneous dungeons, to a cruel and lingering death. Our hero 
nevertheless succeeded, in spite of these obstacles, in reaching 
his destination, having encountered only one solitary adven- 
ture. 

As he was crossing over the sandy and deserted plains of West- 
phalia he was overtaken by night, before he could reach any place 
of sojourn. The day had been uncommonly sultry, and darkness 
came on with a terrific thunderstorm, and heavy showers, which 
drenched him to the skin. This was extremely trying and novel 
to one of Fortune's spoiled children, as he had been. He had 
never been accustomed to the changes of the weather, and yet he 
might perhaps be compelled to pass the whole night in this horrid 
spot. The thought filled him with horror — when suddenly he 
saw a light, to his infinite relief, only at a short distance. On 
spurring towards it, he found a miserable little hut, which pro- 
mised him small comfort. It was more like a shed for cattle than 
a human habitation ; yet the inhospitable boor refused him ad- 
mittance, declaring he had only straw enough for his oxen, and 
was too sleepy to get up and light his fire again for the sake of a 
stranger. At first poor Franz complained bitterly, but as it served 
no purpose, he laid his malediction on all Westphalian deserts 
and their unnatural inhabitants, while the boor proceeded to put 
out his lamp with the utmost indifference, without troubling him- 
self about violating the laws of hospitality. Our incensed hero 
at length threatened and thundered at the door in such a way as 
effectually to prevent the brute's repose, who, better understand- 
ing such an appeal, soon found his tongue : — " Do you think, 
man, you will find a good supper and a soft couch here? If you 
do, you will be disappointed, friend ; so please to be quiet. Can't 
you ride through the little wood on your left, and knock at the 
Castle-gate of Sir Eberhard of Bronkhorst, instead of battering at 
my poor door? He welcomes a stranger as a knight-hospitaller 
does the pilgrim from the Holy Land. Heed thou not, though he 
be seized with a fit of madness, as he sometimes is ; yet then he 
only wishes to give his guests a hearty drubbing before he takes 
leave of them. In all other respects, if you like to venture, you 
will find good entertainment." 

Franz was some time at a loss how to act; yet he had rather 
run the risk of a sound drubbing, than stand drenched in his wet 
clothes the whole of the night. There was not much choice ; he de- 
liberated between passing the night upon a wooden bench without 
supper, suppose he were to get into the hut ; — and a little flogging 
in the morning after enjoying a good supper and a bed. " Be- 
sides," he added, "such an application may, perhaps, drive away 
the fever which I am sure to take if I stay longer here, and that 
would be a sad thing." So he remounted, spurred away, and in 
a few minutes stopped before the gates of a Gothic castle, at which 



16 



POPULAR TALES 9 



he knocked pretty smartly. He was answered as loudly, " Who 
is there?" from the other side. Our hero begged somewhat 
impatiently for admission, and he would explain afterwards ; but 
he was compelled to wait the pleasure of Sir Eberhard, until the 
butler had ascertained whether he chose to give a night's lodging, 
for the satisfaction he would have in beating his guest in the 
morning. 

This Sir Eberhard had early in life entered the army of the 
Emperor ; had served under the celebrated George of Frondsberg, 
and subsequently commanded a company against the Venetians. 
Afterwards, on retiring from service, and settling at his castle, he 
began to lead a more pious and charitable life : — he held open 
castle for the destitute, or for hungry and houseless travellers ; 
but, on taking leave, he invariably flogged them out of the castle. 
Sir Eberhard was a rude soldier, and retained the manners of a 
camp, though he had been living some years in retirement. 

In a few minutes the bars of the gate were withdrawn, with a 
melancholy sound, as if giving warning of the approaching 
flogging, and Franz had a fit of cold shivers as he walked across 
the courtyard. He was hospitably received, and a number of 
lackeys ran to help him to dismount: one took his baggage, 
another his steed, while a third ushered him into the presence of 
the Knight. He was seated in a splendid hall, but rose to meet 
his guest, and shook him by the hand so heartily that Franz 
almost cried out with pain, and was struck with fear and awe. 
He could not conceal his terror, and trembled from head to foot 
at the warlike appearance of the Knight, who exclaimed in a 
voice of thunder, "What is the matter, young man, that you 
tremble and grow pale, as if in the clutches of death?" Franz 
felt that it was now too late to retract, and, being convinced that 
he was likely to pay dear for his fare, he summed up all his 
courage, and assumed even a haughty air to conceal his fears. 

" Sir knight," he boldly replied, " the rain has drenched me as 
if I had swam through the Weser ; I wish, therefore, to change 
my wet clothes, and to get a good warm posset to banish these 
shiverings, which seem like the commencement of an ague." 

" Well said," replied the knight ; " make yourself at home, and 
ask for what you want." 

Franz made the servants wait on him, as if he had been the 
grand Turk, and, having only blows to expect, he thought it best 
to deserve them properly. He therefore ordered the servants 
about, and teased them in every possible way. 

The master of the house, so far from showing any displeasure 
at these liberties, even obliged his servants to fulfil Franz's com- 
mands, and called them blockheads, who knew not how to wait 
on his guests. When the posset was ready, both landlord and 
guest, partook heartily of it. Soon afterwards the former said, 

" Will you take some supper, young sir ?" 



MUTE LOVE. 



17 



" Let them put on the table," answered Franz, " what the cook 
has at hand, that I may see whether your larder is well supplied." 

Orders were accordingly given, and the servants soon afterwards 
served up an excellent supper, fit for a prince. Franz sat down 
to it, and waited not till he was pressed, to eat voraciously. 
After having satisfied his hunger, he said, " Your larder is indif- 
ferently well supplied, and if your cellar be the same, I shall have 
to praise your house-keeping." 

The knight made a sign to the butler, to fill a goblet with 
common table wine, which he did, and offered it to his master, 
who emptied it to the health of his guest. Franz did not fail to 
pledge him, and after he had also emptied the goblet, the knight 
asked, " What do you think of this wine?" 

"It's but poor stuff," replied Franz, "if it is your best; but 
tolerably good, if it is only your table drink." 

" You are a connoisseur," answered Sir Eberhard, and bid the 
butler bring some of the best. 

When Franz had tasted this, he said, " That is a noble beverage, 
let us keep to this." 

The goblets were filled accordingly, and the knight and his 
guest drank together, till both became merry and pleased with 
each other. Sir Eberhard began to talk of his campaigns, and told 
his guest how he had fought against the Venetians, broke through 
their encampments, and had killed them like so many sheep. 
This subject awakened the enthusiasm of the old soldier; he 
hewed down bottles and glasses, brandished the carving-knife like 
a sword, and pressed so close on his companion, that the latter 
began to fear for his nose and ears. 

The knight seemed quite in his element, when talking of his 
campaigns against the Venetians, and, though it grew late, he 
seemed to have no disposition to sleep. His description became 
more lively at every goblet he emptied ; and Franz became appre- 
hensive, lest this might be the prologue to the principal action, in 
which he was to perform the most conspicuous, though the least 
agreeable part. He wished to learn at once where he was to pass 
the night; and, therefore, asked for the parting cup, expecting 
that the knight would now begin to press him to drink, and, if he 
did not, would make his refusal the ground for a quarrel, and send 
him away with his usual quantum of blows, according to the 
custom of the house. Contrary to his expectation, however, his 
request was immediately complied with. The knight broke off 
his story, saying, " Every thing in proper time, more to-morrow." 

"Pardon me, sir knight," replied Franz, "to-morrow I shall 
be far from here. I have a long journey before me to Brabant, 
and must depart early. I shall therefore bid you farewell to- 
night, that my departure may not disturb your rest in the 
morning." 

" Do as you choose," said the knight, " but you shall not 



18 



POPULAR TALES. 



leave my house till I am up, and have seen you refreshed by a 
morning's repast ; and then I will accompany you to the gates, 
and part with you according to the custom of my house." 

Frank needed no commentary to explain these words. He 
would willingly have dispensed with the last civilities of his 
landlord, but he did not seem disposed to depart from the usual 
ceremonies. He ordered the servants to show the stranger into 
the bedchamber, and soon Franz was safely deposited in an 
excellent bed of down. Before he fell asleep, he could not help 
confessing to himself, that such a lordly entertainment was not 
too dearly bought by a moderate beating. Pleasant dreams took 
possession of his imagination. He saw his beloved Mela walking 
about among roses, with her mother, gathering the beautiful 
flowers, and he quickly concealed himself behind a thick hedge, 
not to be seen by the severe old lady. Again, he was trans- 
ported into his old lodgings, and saw the snow-white hand of the 
maiden busy among the flowers. Then he sat beside her in the 
grass, and wished to talk of love, but was so bashful, he could 
find no words for it. He might have dreamt thus till midday, if 
the loud voice and the trampling of the knight, who was already 
booted and spurred, had not awakened him at daybreak. Frank 
heard the butler and cook ordered to prepare a good breakfast, 
and the other servants to be ready to wait on and dress him at 
his rising. 

The happy dreamer parted very reluctantly from his safe and 
hospitable bed : but the loud voice of his landlord deprived him 
of all desire to sleep ; he knew he must get up, and therefore did ; 
a dozen hands were immediately busy about him ; and, when he 
was dressed, the knight himself came and led him into the hall, 
where he found a small but well-covered table. As the scene 
drew towards a close, however, our traveller had little appetite. 
His landlord encouraged him to eat, or at least to take something 
to protect himself against the coolness of the morning. 

" Sir knight," said Franz, " your supper was too good to 
allow me to relish my breakfast ; but, with your leave, I will fill 
my pockets, to be provided against hunger when it comes." He 
accordingly took the best and richest that was on the table, and 
crammed his pockets well. When his horse, well cleaned, bridled 
and saddled, was brought to the door, he drank in a glass of' 
cordial to the health and welfare of his host, expecting that 
would be the signal for his being seized on and soundly beat. 

But, to his great astonishment, the knight shook him as 
kindly by the hand as when he first met him, wished him a good 
journey, and the servants opened the gates. He mounted his 
horse, spurred rapidly on, and was in a few minutes outside of 
the gate, without a hair of his head being injured. 

A heavy load fell from his heart when he saw himself at liberty, 
without having received the expected beating. He could not 



MUTE LOVE. 



19 



conceive why his host should have spared him, contrary to his 
general custom, and was now first grateful for the hospitable 
knight's kindness ; he felt a great curiosity to know whether there 
was any foundation in the report he had heard, and, therefore, 
turned his horse's head and rode back. The knight was still 
standing at the gate, making observations on the shape and breed 
of Franz's horse, breeding horses being his own favourite pursuit. 
He thought his guest had missed some part of his baggage, and 
looked with displeasure on his servants. " What do you want, 
young man ? " he called out to Franz, as he approached, " why 
do you return when you intended to pursue your journey ?" 

" To have one word with you, sir knight," said the rider. " A 
malicious report has, to the discredit of your name and reputation, 
gone abroad, that you receive all strangers well, but that you beat 
them soundly before you allow them to depart. Relying on this 
report, I have done all I could to deserve the parting salutation, 
and you have allowed me to depart in peace, without making me 
pay the customary reckoning. This astonishes me. Tell me, 
therefore, is there any foundation for this report, or shall I give 
the foul defamers the lie ?" 

To this the knight replied, " Report has, in this instance, told 
the truth ; and there is no popular saying indeed quite destitute 
of foundation. I shall explain to you, however, the real cir- 
cumstances. I receive every stranger who comes to my gates, 
and share my food and my goblet with him. But I am a simple 
German of the old school, who speaks as he thinks, and I expect 
that my guests should be also cheerful and confiding, and enjoy 
with me what I have, and freely ask for what they want. But 
there are some people who tease me with all sorts of follies, and 
make a fool of me, with their bowing and scraping — who never 
speak openly, and use many words without sense or meaning ; 
they want to flatter me with their smooth tongues, and behave 
at meals like foolish women. If I say " Eat," they take with great 
apparent reluctance a miserable bone, which I should not offer to 
my dog: if I say "Drink," they scarcely wet their lips with the 
good wine, as if they despised the bounties of God. They carry 
their follies to so great a length, that I scarcely know what to do in 
my own house. They put me at last into a passion, I seize them 
by the collar, cudgel them soundly, and turn them out of my 
doors. This is my plan, and I treat every guest thus, whom 
I find troublesome. But a man like you is always welcome to 
my house. You spoke your mind openly and freely, as the good 
people of Bremen always do. Let me see you again, therefore, 
on your return, — and now farewell. " 

After these words Franz departed, and continued his journey 
towards Antwerp with renewed strength and courage, sincerely 
wishing he might everywhere meet with as kind a reception as 
at the castle of Sir Eberhard of Bronkhorst. At his first entrance 

c 3 



20 



POPULAR TALES. 



into that city, the queen of the cities of Brabant, his hopes were 
raised to a high pitch. Opulence and luxury were everywhere 
visible, and it seemed as if want and poverty were banished from 
this seat of industry. " My father's debtors," he said to himself, 
" are most likely sharing in this general wealth ; they have again 
improved their circumstances, and will be ready to pay me if 
I produce my documents to prove my demands are just." After 
he had recovered from the fatigues of his journey, he made some 
inquiries concerning the circumstances of some of his debtors, 
before he went to call on them. " How is it with Peter Martens?" 
he asked his companions at table, " is he still living, and does he 
thrive?" 

" Peter Martens is a wealthy man," replied one of the com- 
pany, " and drives a nourishing trade." 

" Is Fabian van Plurs in good circumstances?" 

" Oh ! he scarce knows how to employ his immense capital ; he 
is one of the council, and his woollen manufactures give him ample 
profits." 

" Has the house of the Butekant failed, or does it carry on 
business ?" 

" Some years ago it was tottering, but the Spanish Caravelles 1 
have helped to prop it up, so that it seems now likely to stand." 

Franz having inquired after several other houses, or persons, 
on whom he had demands, learned that most of them, who had 
in his father's time stopped payment, were now nourishing, which 
confirmed a common opinion, that a seasonable bankruptcy is a 
sure foundation for after prosperity. This news served to cheer 
up his spirits ; he arranged his papers, and presented the old bills 
at their proper places. But he experienced from the people of 
Antwerp the same treatment which his travelling fellow-citizens 
of this age experience from shopkeepers in the provincial towns of 
Germany. Every one treats them well until they call to get in 
their money. Many would hear nothing of their old debts, 
declaring that they had all been settled at the time of the bank- 
ruptcy; and it was the creditor's fault if he had not accepted 
payment. Others said, they did not even remember the name ; 
their books gave no account of any Melchior. A few submitted 
a large balance against Franz's father; and in the course of three 
days he found himself safely lodged in prison, to answer for them 
to the very last farthing. 

This was an unpleasant prospect for a man who had so far 
confided in the honest people of Antwerp, as to consider them as 
the authors of his future fortune. The bubble had vanished in a 
moment ; and he began to feel all the tortures of purgatory — 
thrown into prison — his vessel wrecked just as he was making the 
harbour, where he hoped he should be safe from the storms of 
life. The thought of Mela was a dagger to his heart : there was 
1 Spanish ships, which then traded to America. 



MUTE LOVE. 



21 



no longer even a shadow of probability that he could ever emerge 
from this abyss of ruin into respectability and credit. And, were 
he able even to raise his head above water, his beloved was, on 
her part, perfectly unable to pull him to dry land. 

It was not the intention of the hard-hearted citizens of Antwerp 
to make him pay money, so much as to compel him to renounce all 
claims upon them ; so that at the end of three months Franz left his 
prison, upon condition of quitting the city within four-and-twenty 
hours, and never returning to it. He then received a small sum of 
money to defray his expenses home ; for the law had already seized 
upon his horse and baggage, to pay for the proceedings against 
him, and for his board. With no other companion than a walking- 
stick, and with a heavy heart, Franz humbly took his leave of the 
proud city, whose walls he had shortly before entered with such 
grand expectations. Reckless and dispirited, he wandered on, 
without marking the road which he had taken. He asked no 
questions, saluted no one, and took notice of nothing, until excess 
of hunger and fatigue compelled him to seek out some place where 
he might relieve his wants. Many days he thus wandered on 
without any aim in view, and even ignorant that he had, instinc- 
tively, as it were, taken the right direction homewards. Suddenly 
he seemed to awake out of a disagreeable dream, and recognised 
the road he was going. 

He now stopped to reflect whether he had better go on, or 
retrace his steps. He was overwhelmed with shame and trouble, 
at the idea of living a beggar in his native city, and soliciting the 
benevolence of those whom he had formerly surpassed in credit 
and opulence. How could he appear in the presence of Mela 
under such circumstances ? She would die with shame to behold 
him ! It was certain he would now lose her ; and he turned 
away from the melancholy picture, as if he had already beheld 
the rabble gathering round and greeting his return to Bremen 
with scorn and mockery. 

No ! he determined he would rather make for one of the Dutch 
seaports, and enter on board some Spanish ship as a sailor. He 
would sail for the new world, try his fortune in Peru, where 
wealth abounded ; and never return to his native land, until he 
succeeded in recovering that property which he had so needlessly 
lavished. His beloved Mela appeared now only like some dis- 
tant shadow that he should catch at in vain ; though he felt a 
beam of pleasure warm his heart at the bare idea of her becoming 
connected with his future destiny ; and he hastened rapidly for- 
wards, as if he were about to reach the spot where she dwelt. 
He had returned as far as the frontiers of the Netherlands, when 
one night, about sunset, he approached a small place, called 
Rummelsburg, which was subsequently destroyed in the thirty 
years' war. There were a number of carriers in the tavern, and 
he could find no room. The landlord bade him hasten to the 



22 



POPULAR TALES. 



next village, as he, in fact, mistook him for the spy of some gang 
of thieves, on watch, perhaps, for the carrier's goods. So, in spite 
of his increasing weariness, Franz found he must again take his 
bundle on his shoulder, and prepare for a farther journey that 
night. 

As he went, however, he made some cutting reflections upon 
the landlord's inhumanity ; insomuch, that, as if repenting of his 
own harsh proposal, he began to pity the poor traveller, and 
called out, " One word yet, young man : if you particularly wish 
to pass the night here, I think I can contrive it. There are 
plenty of apartments in the castle hard by ; I have got the keys, 
if you should not think it too solitary for you." Franz willingly 
closed with the offer, requiring only supper and shelter, whether 
in a palace or in a hut. But mine host was somewhat of a wag, 
and, intending to revenge himself upon poor Franz for his abuse 
of him, he proposed a night's residence in the haunted old castle, 
where there had been no inhabitant for many years, owing to the 
cruel pranks of a spirit which had frightened them all away in 
succession. 

This castle stood on a steep cliff, in the outskirts of the town, 
and directly opposite to the inn, being merely separated by the 
public road, and a small brook. It was kept in good repair, on 
account of its delightful situation : and was very well built and 
furnished, though it served its present possessor only for a hunt- 
ing-seat. Occasionally he gave a splendid feast there, but was 
sure to leave it along with all his followers on the approach of 
evening, having so often been terrified by the spirit, which made 
a hideous noise, and raged through the castle, though he never 
appeared during the day. However disagreeable to the lord of 
the castle, as a spectre, it had the good effect of protecting his 
property from robbers, the boldest of whom refused to venture 
near the spot. 

It was now quite dark. Franz carried a lantern, accompanied 
by the host, and a little basket of provisions. He was soon at 
the castle gates, where the host had provided a good supper, and 
a bottle of wine, which he did not intend to appear in the bill ; 
likewise a pair of wax candles, as there were none in the castle, 
nobody remaining there after twilight. As they were walking, 
Franz observed the basket and candles, and, though they would 
be quite useless to him, thought he might still have to account for 
them in the bill. 

" The piece of candle in the lantern is enough for me," said our 
hero, " until I go to bed. I hope I shall not open my eyes before 
it be broad day ; for I feel very sleepy, and want a deal of rest." 

" Then I ought not to conceal from you," replied the host, 
" what report says. The castle is haunted by a plaguy ghost, 
who walks about all night. But we shall be so near that you 
need not be the least afraid. Should anything occur, you have 



MUTE LOVE. 



23 



only to call out pretty loudly, and we shall be ready to assist you. 
People with us are stirring all night, and somebody or other will 
be at hand. Why, I have lived here these thirty years, and, for 
my own part, I have never seen anything. The noise that is 
sometimes heard proceeds, I take it, from cats, or other animals, 
that harbour in the garrets. As a precaution, I have provided 
you with candles ; and, as they are consecrated, no goblin will 
venture into their light." 

Mine host spoke truth when be declared he had never seen any 
spectre ; for he took care never to be near enough the castle at 
night. Even now the varlet did not venture to proceed across 
the threshold; but opening the door, he handed Franz the basket, 
directed him which way to proceed, and bade him a good night; 

Our traveller entered the great hall without feeling the least 
awe, despising the story as mere gossip, or some old tradition of a 
real event adorned with a little of the supernatural. He called to 
mind the report of Sir Eberhard, whose heavy hand he had so much 
dreaded, and yet who had treated him with so much kindness. 
In fact, he made a point of believing just the contrary of what he 
had heard, quite forgetting, as the knight himself stated, that all 
such reports had some foundation in truth. 

According to the host's direction, he ascended a winding stair- 
case, which brought him to a door, the key of which the landlord 
had given him. He entered a long dark passage, where his steps 
echoed along the walls ; thence he passed into a grand saloon, 
which led into a row of smaller rooms, well supplied with all that 
was necessary, both for ornament and use. He fixed on the most 
comfortable one he could find, with the windows looking towards 
the tavern-yard, whence he could gather every word that was 
spoken. This was reviving, and the room had a soft bed on 
which to repose his weary head. He now lighted his candles, sat 
down to his supper, of which he partook with as hearty a relish 
as if he had been eating at his old lodgings in the good city 
of Bremen. A large bottle soon removed his thirst, and while his 
appetite lasted he had no^time to think of the spectre. When he 
heard some noise at a distance, and fear whispered, " Listen ! 
there comes the ghost ! " his courage only answered, " Nonsense! 
the cats are fighting." After supper he listened rather more 
attentively, as it drew near midnight, and fear uttered three 
anxious ideas before Franz's courage could find a single answer. 

To protect himself against sudden surprise, he first locked and 
boltdd the door, seated himself on a stone bench at the window, 
then opened it and looked out, to divert his mind with a view of 
the heavens and the silvery queen of night. Gradually the street 
below grew quite silent, contrary to mine host's assurance that 
his people were always stirring. Franz heard one door closed 
after another, the lights were extinguished, and the whole inn 
was buried in profound repose, The watch, going his round, told 



24 



POPULAR TALES. 



the hour and the state of the weather ; besides beginning, to 
Franz 's great consolation, to sing an evening hymn directly under 
his window. Had he not feared that the man would be terrified 
away, if he heard himself spoken to from the haunted castle, he 
would gladly have entered into conversation with him. 

In the midst of a populous town, when a man is harassed by 
silly people, it may appear a pleasant relief to retire to some 
solitary spot, and philosophize on the charms of solitude. He 
then represents it as most soothing to the mind ; he multiplies 
its advantages, and sighs for its enjoyment. But where such 
solitude is, — as in the island of Juan Fernandez, where one poor 
shipwrecked sailor lived many years quite alone, — in a thick forest 
at midnight, — or in an old uninhabited castle, where damp walls 
and unexplored vaults create apprehension and horror, and where 
nothing gives signs of life, but the mournful ruin-loving owl, — 
there sohtude is hateful, and companions pleasant, especially if 
the solitary person, like Franz, should expect every moment to 
see some horrid spectre. In such a situation, a conversation 
from the window, even with the watchman, may appear more 
entertaining than the most interesting book, were it even a dis- 
sertation on sohtude. Had Zimmermann been in Franz's place, in 
the castle of Rummelsburg, on the frontiers of Westphalia, he 
would then probably have planned as interesting a work on the 
pleasures of society, as troublesome people provoked him to 
write on solitude. 

The midnight hour is said to be the time when the spiritual 
world begins to live and act, while the more coarse animal king- 
dom enjoys repose. For this reason, Franz wished to go to sleep 
before the critical hour arrived ; he shut the window therefore, 
surveyed once more every corner of his room, and quickly threw 
himself on the soft couch, greatly to the delight of his wearied 
limbs. Sleep, however, came not so soon as he wished. A 
palpitation, which he ascribed to the wine he had drunk, kept 
him awake for some time, during which he repeated his prayers 
more fervently than usual ; at length he fell soundly asleep. 
After a short time, he awoke with a sudden start, when, on 
remembering where he was, he heard the town clock strike twelve ; 
which news the watchman soon afterwards loudly proclaimed. 
No other noise was, however, heard. Franz listened for some 
time, and, turning round, was again relapsing into sleep, when at 
some distance he heard a door opened, and immediately after- 
wards shut with a loud crash. 

" Woe ! woe to me ! " whispered fear, " here comes the ghost ! " 
* It is the wind, nothing but the wind," replied courage. But the 
noise approached nearer and nearer, like the heavy steps of a 
man, rattling his chains as he moved, or like the chamberlain of 
some old castle, wandering about his domain clanging his bunch 
of keys. This could not be the wind — courage vanished, fear 



MUTE LOVE. 



25 



drove all the blood to Franz's heart — till it beat, as if too full, and 
were trying to burst from its confinement. 

As the noise approached, the matter appeared quite serious to 
Franz, and he could not even collect resolution enough to rise 
and call from the window to the people of the inn. He took 
refuge under his coverlet, which he drew quite over him, as the 
ostrich is said to hide his head in the grass, when he can no 
longer escape the enemy. Doors were opened and shut with a 
terrible noise; and at last, an attempt was made on the door of 
Franz's chamber. Several keys were tried, and at length the right 
one found : still the bars held the door, when at length a loud 
crash, like a clap of thunder, burst them asunder, and the door 
flew open. A tall thin man entered, with a very black beard, and 
clothed in an old-fashioned dress. A scarlet mantle was thrown 
over his left shoulder, and his hat was high and pointed. He 
walked silently through the room with the same slow and heavy 
step with which he had approached, looked at the candles, and 
even snuffed them. Then he threw off his mantle, opened a bag 
which he carried under his arm, took out instruments for shaving, 
and began to sharpen a shining razor on a broad leather strap, 
which he wore on his belt. 

Franz perspired under his downy covering with fear and dread; 
recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and looked 
forward with great anxiety for the end of this manoeuvre, not 
knowing whether it was meant for his beard or for his throat. 
To his consolation, the spectre poured water from a silver flagon 
into a basin of the same material, and with his bony hand beat 
the soap up into foaming suds ; placed a chair, and then, with 
great earnestness, beckoned the terrified Franz from his retreat. 
It was no more possible to resist this meaning sign, than it gene- 
rally is to resist the mute who has orders from the grand Turk 
to bring him the head of some exiled vizier. It is the most sensi- 
ble plan, in such a case, to make a virtue of necessity, and 
patiently allow oneself to be throttled. Franz obeyed the order, 
threw off the mattress, rose from his couch, and took the assigned 
place on the chair. 

The spectre barber put the napkin round the neck of his trem- 
bling customer, seized his scissors, and cut off Franz's hair and 
beard. Then he proceeded to cover his chin, and even his head, 
with soap, and, when this was done, he shaved him so smoothly, 
and so completely, that not a hair was left on his whole head. When 
the spectre had completed this operation, he washed Franz very 
clean, dried him carefully, bowed, packed up his implements, re- 
sumed his scarlet cloak, and turned to depart. The consecrated 
candles burned perfectly bright during the whole of the proceed- 
ing, and, by the light, Franz saw in the mirror opposite him that 
the barber had made him like a Chinese pagod. He was vexed 
at losing his beautiful brown curls, but he breathed freely, being 



26 



POPULAR TALES. 



aware that he should escape otherwise unhurt, and that the 
spectre had no longer any power over him. 

The man in the red cloak walked in silence, as he had come, 
towards the door, and seemed quite the reverse of his gossiping 
brethren; scarcely had he retired three steps, however, when he 
stood still, looked round with a mournful mien at his well-served 
customer, and touched his own black beard with his hand. He 
repeated this ceremony twice ; and again, a third time, when he 
had his hand on the door. Franz began to think that the ghost 
wished him to do something for him, and, the thought struck him, 
that he expected from him the same service which he had rendered 
to him. 

The barber spectre, in spite of his mournful looks, seemed more 
disposed to jest than earnest, and as he had played Franz a trick 
rather than tormented him, the latter had lost all his fear. He 
therefore beckoned the spectre to take the place in the chair, 
which he had just left. The ghost obeyed with great alacrity, 
threw down his cloak, laid the bag on the table, and sat down in 
the position of a person who is to be shaved. Franz was careful 
to imitate the manner in which the ghost had proceeded, cut off 
the beard and hair with the scissors, and soaped his whole head, 
while his strange companion sat as still as a statue. The awk- 
ward youth had never before had a razor in his hand, knew not 
how to handle it, and shaved the patient ghost so much against 
the grain, that the sufferer displayed the oddest grimaces. The 
ignorant bungler began to be afraid; he remembered the wise 
precept, "Do not meddle with another man's business,'' but still 
he proceeded, — did as well as he could, and shaved the spectre 
as clean and as bald as he was himself. 

Suddenly the ghost found its tongue: " Kindly I thank thee for 
the great services thou hast rendered me; by thy means I have 
been released from long captivity, which for three hundred years 
bound me within these walls, where my departed spirit was con- 
demned to dwell, till a mortal man should retaliate on me, and 
treat me as I did others when I was alive. 

" Know that, in times of yore, there dwelt a shameless infidel 
within this castle, who mocked both at priests and laymen. Count 
Hartman was no man's friend: he acknowledged neither divine 
nor human la ws, and violated the sacred rules of hospitality. The 
stranger who sought refuge under his roof, the beggar who asked 
alms of him, was always seized and tormented. I was his barber, 
nattered his passions, and lived as I chose. Many a pious pilgrim, 
passing the gates, was invited into the castle; a bath was prepared 
for him, and when he meant to enjoy himself, I took hold of him 
according to orders, shaved him quite bald, and then turned him 
out of the castle, with scorn and mockery. In such cases Count 
Hartman used to look out at the window, and enjoy the sport, 
particularly if a number of malicious boys collected round the 



MUTE LOVE. 



insulted pilgrim,and laughed and mocked at him, calling out after 
him, 'Bald head, bald head!' as the wicked boys of old called 
after the holy prophet. 

" Once a pilgrim came from abroad. He entered and asked 
for water to wash his feet, and a crust of bread. According to 
my custom, I took him into the bath, and, without respecting 
his venerable appearance, I shaved him also quite bald. But the 
pious pilgrim pronounced a heavy curse on me : 1 After death, 
reprobate ! heaven and hell, and the iron gates of purgatory 
shall be equally inaccessible to thy soul. It shall dwell, as a 
spectre, within these walls, till a wanderer unasked shall retaliate 
on thee thy own evil deeds !' 

" I grew sick at hearing the curse ; the marrow of my bones 
dried up, and I decayed away gradually, till I became like a 
shadow ; my soul at length separated from its mortal dwelling, 
but remained within this place, as the holy man had ordered. In 
vain I expected deliverance from the dreadful chains that bound 
me to the earth. The repose which the soul languishes for when 
it is separated from the body was denied to me, and made every 
year which I was obliged to pass here an age of woe. I was 
obliged also, as a farther punishment, to continue the business 
which I had carried on during my lifetime. But, alas ? my 
appearance soon made this house be deserted; it was very rarely 
that a pilgrim came to pass the night here, and, though I shaved 
every one who came as I did you, no one would understand me, 
and perform for me that service which was to deliver my soul 
from captivity. Henceforth I shall not haunt this castle. I now 
go to my long desired repose. Once more I give thee my thanks, 
young stranger. If I had any hidden treasures at my command, 
they should all be thine, but I never possessed wealth; in this 
castle there is no treasure hidden. But listen to my advice. 
Tarry here till your chin and head are again covered with hair, 
then return to your native city, and wait on the bridge over the 
Weser at the time of the autumnal equinox, for a friend, who will 
there meet and tell you what you must do to thrive on earth. 
Farewell; I now depart hence, never to return." . 



The wicked wag of a landlord had watched from early dawn 
for the arrival of the castle guest. Anticipating a bald head, he 
was prepared to receive him with well-affected surprise, but 
secret ridicule, at his night's adventure. As midday came, and 
no guest appeared, he grew uneasy lest the spectre had treated 
him too roughly — perhaps strangled, or frightened him to death. 
Not wishing to have carried the joke so far, he hastened with his 
servants in some anxiety towards the castle ; and sought out the 
room where he had seen the light the preceding evening. He 

D 



2!s 



POPULAR TALES. 



found a strange key in the door, but it was bolted, a measure 
Franz adopted on the ghost's departure. He knocked with such 
violence, that Franz leaped up at the noise, thinking, at first, 
that the spectre was coming on another visit. But hearing it was 
mine host's voice entreating him to give some sign, Franz rose 
and opened the door. 

" Mercy !" cried the landlord, lifting up his hands with feigned 
surprise and terror, " then old Red Cloak has been here, " (for 
the spectre went by that name,) " and the tradition is really true. 
How did he look ? what said he ? and more than all, what did he 
do?" 

Frank, aware of mine host's roguery, replied, " How should 
he look? as a man in a red cloak does ; what he did is evident to 
any one ; and I shall always take care to remember his words. 
' Kind stranger,' he said, ' trust not the landlord who dwells 
opposite, he knew too well what would happen to you. But 
leave him to me, I will reward him. I am going to leave the 
castle, and will take up my quarters at his inn — I will pinch and 
plague him to the end of his life ; unless, indeed, he consent to 
receive you in his house, and treat you handsomely, until your 
hair and beard be again full grown.'" 

Our poor host trembled sadly at hearing this threat ; he crossed 
himself, and protested that he would be glad to give Franz the 
run of his house as long as he pleased. He forthwith conducted 
his guest to the inn, and waited upon him, with the utmost ob- 
sequiousness, himself. 

Our hero obtained great reputation as an exorcist, for the 
spectre was no longer to be heard at the castle. He often went 
to sleep there, and a young fellow, who had courage to accom- 
pany him, returned without a shaven head. The owner of the 
castle, hearing that the spectre had disappeared, sent orders, 
with great alacrity, to have the stranger most hospitably treated, 
who had delivered his property from such a disagreeable house- 
steward. 

By the approach of autumn, Franz's brown locks began to cover 
his temples again ; and he grew anxious to proceed home. His 
thoughts were busied with conjectures about the friend whom he 
was to meet upon the bridge — the author of his future fortunes. 
Being prepared for his departure, the landlord presented him with 
a fine horse, and a well-filled purse, sent by the owner of the 
castle as some token of his gratitude for the service he had re- 
ceived. Thus Franz was enabled to re-enter his native city on 
horseback, quite in as good circumstances as those in which he 
had left it the year before. He sought out his old quarters in the 
narrow street, where he continued to live very retired, and con- 
tented himself with making inquiries after his beloved Mela, who, 
he learnt, was still single, and enjoying very good health. At 
present this was sufficient for him ; as he would not presume to 



MUTE LOVE. 



20 



appear in her presence until his fate was ascertained ; so that he 
did not even inform her of his arrival in the place. 

He looked forward very anxiously for the period of the equinox; 
his impatience made each day appear as long as a year. The long 
wished-for time at last arrived ; and the night previous he could 
not close his eyes, on account of his eager anticipations : his heart 
beat strong, and he felt as if the blood was about to burst from 
his veins, just as it was in the castle of Rummelsburg before the 
spectre's appearance. He rose at daybreak, in order not to let 
his unknown friend wait, and hastened to the bridge, which he 
found quite deserted. He amused himself with planning a variety 
of modes of appearing before his beloved, when he had realized 
his grand hopes ; not being able to decide whether it would be 
better to present himself in all his splendour, or to communicate 
the happy change of affairs by degrees. Then he was very in- 
quisitive to learn who this secret friend of his might be. " One of 
my own old acquaintances, I wonder : — but they seem one and all 
to have abandoned me since my reverses. Then how will it be in 
his power to serve me so astonishingly? Will the affair be hard 
or easy to accomplish? " None of these questions did he know 
how to answer satisfactorily, in spite of all his earnest meditations. 
The bridge now began to be thronged with people, coaches, wag- 
gons, horse and foot passengers, hastening to and fro ; besides a 
number of mendicants of every description, one after another 
coming to take their usual stations in a place so favourable to 
their calling. They soon began to work upon the compassion of 
passengers ; and the first of this ragged regiment, who implored 
Franz's charity, was an old veteran, bearing his military honour 
of a wooden leg, having left the other behind him in his country's 
cause. As the reward of his valour, he was permitted to beg 
wherever he chose ; and as he was a good physiognomist, versed 
in a knowledge of the human heart expressed in the lines of the 
face, he applied it with such success, that he seldom solicited alms 
in vain. He was not deceived with Franz on this occasion ; for 
the latter, in the joy of his heart, flung a silver piece into his hat. 

For some time Franz did not expect to see much company, be- 
sides the lower classes, passing over the bridge ; the more rich 
and indolent still enjoying their morning slumbers. He imagined 
that his benefactor must, of course, belong to the wealthier class, 
and took no notice of the rest of the passengers, until, the courts 
of justice being opened, the lawyers and magistrates should pro- 
ceed in their full dress to the Council, and the rich merchants to 
the Exchange. Then he began to grow very anxious, and peered 
into the faces of all the most respectably-dressed people who 
passed by. But hour after hour elapsed, until the morning was 
gone. Dinner came, and business seemed to cease ; yet no friend 
caught our hero's eye. He paced to and fro along the bridge, 
where there remained only himself and the mendicants ; who now 



POPULAR TALES. 



opened their scrips, and dined on cold meat, still keeping their 
respective stations. Franz wished to follow their example ; but, 
having no provisions with him, he purchased some fruit, which 
he ate as he walked along. The members of the club, as they sat 
at dinner, remarked how long he had been haunting the same 
spot, without speaking to any one, or, like themselves, transacting 
business. They set him down for an idle youth, though most of 
them had experienced his benevolence ; and he did not escape 
their facetious observations. At length, they gave him the title of 
the bridge-surveyor. The old soldier, however, noticed that his 
face no longer betokened the same cheerfulness ; that he seemed 
to have some serious business upon his mind ; his hat was 
slouched over his eyes, his step slow and cautious ; while he was 
engaged in eating the remnant of an apple, as if hardly conscious 
of what he was doing. 

The old physiognomist wished to apply his observations to 
some profit ; he set his natural and artificial leg both in motion, 
passed to the other side of the bridge, and prepared to ask our 
musing hero for more alms, as if he had been a fresh comer. He 
succeeded — the thoughtful visionary only thrust his hand into his 
pocket, and threw a piece of money without even looking at him. 

After dinner, numbers of new faces appeared; but not a single 
person spoke to poor Franz, who now began to grow impatient. His 
attention was still fixed upon every respectable passenger; strange, 
he thought, that no one addressed him — that all should pass him 
without the least notice ; very few even deigning to return his 
salutation. 

As he was leaving the bridge, he met the old soldier, who had 
been, meanwhile, busily guessing at the motive of the poor young 
fellow, in watching on the bridge the whole day. He waited 
longer than usual, to see whether he would take his departure, 
until his patience being quite exhausted, he could not resist his 
curiosity to inquire into the reason of his turning the bridge into 
a dwelling-place. " Pray, sir," he began, " may I be permitted 
to ask — ?" 

Franz, by no means in a communicative humour, and finding 
the long expected address come from the lips of an old mendicant, 
answered rather sharply — "What do you want, old greybeard? 
Speak out." 

"Sir," said the old man, "you and I were the first who took 
our stations on the bridge to-day, and you see we are the last to 
leave it. As for me and my companions, it is our business ; but 
you do not belong to our fraternity, and yet you have passed all 
the day here. May I be informed, if it be no secret, what can 
have been your reason, and what weighs so much upon your 
mind, that you want to get clear of here?" 

" What boots it for thee to know, my old fellow, what ails me, 
and what lies so heavy upon my heart ? it can avail thee nothing." 



MUTE LOVE. 



31 



" But, sir, I feel an interest in you; you have given me alms 
twice this blessed day, for which God reward you. Yet your face 
is not so happy as it was this morning, and 1 am sorry to see it." 

This simple honest expression of sympathy won Franz's heart; 
and losing all his misanthropy, he gave the soldier a kind answer. 
" Learn, then," said he, " why I have waited here so patiently the 
whole day ; a friend promised to meet me here, who has, however, 
made me wait in vain." 

"With your permission," said the cripple, "your friend, who- 
ever he be, is a scoundrel, thus to make a fool of yon. If he had 
treated me so I would make him feel the weight of my crutch. 
If he were prevented from coming, he should have let you know, 
and not have treated you like a schoolboy." 

"I must not condemn him," said Franz, "lie did not exactly 
promise. It was only in a dream that I was told of it." 

Franz did not like to tell the old man the story of the Spectre 
Barber ; so he changed it into a dream. 

" That is another thing," said the old man ; " if you believe in 
such things, I don't wonder that you should be disappointed. 
If I had all the money that has been promised me in my dreams, 
I might buy the whole town of Bremen with it, if it were for sale. 
Well, it amuses me, that you should waste a whole summer's day 
for the sake of an empty dream, while you might have been 
happy all the time with your friends." 

" I was told so distinctly and circumstantially, however, more 
than three months ago, that I was to meet on this spot a friend 
to-day, who had things of the utmost importance to communicate 
to me, that I thought it was, at least, worth while to try the chance." 

" Nobody," said the cripple, "dreams more clearly than I do. 
One dream I shall never forget. How many years ago it was I do 
not remember, but I dreamt that my guardian angel, in the shape 
of a beautiful youth, with yellow curled hair, and two wings on 
his shoulders, stood at my bedside, and said to me, k Berthold, 
listen to my words, and lose none if thou desirest happiness. 
Thou art destined to possess a large treasure, and to enjoy it for 
. the rest of thy life. To-morrow, after sunset, take a spade and 
shovel, and go from thy dwelling across the river to thy right 
hand; pass all the houses, and the monastery of St. John, till 
thou reachest a garden into which four steps lead from the road. 
Wait there concealed till the moon lends thee her light ; then 
press with all thy strength against the door, and it will spring 
open. Enter the garden without fear, and turn towards the walk, 
on the left hand, which is overhung by vines. Behind them 
stands a large apple-tree ; step up to the stem of it, with thy face 
turned to the moon. In this same direction, about two yards 
distance, thou wilt see two rose-bushes ; begin to dig close to them, 
till thou conies t to a stone plate, and under it thou wilt find an 
iron box full of gold and other valuables. Though it be heavv 

D 3 



32 



POPULAR TALES. 



and unwieldy, do not fear the trouble of lifting it out of the hole, 
and thy pains will be well rewarded, if thou findest the key which 

is concealed below the box/ " 

Franz grew dumb with astonishment as he listened to the old 
man, and would not have been able to conceal his agitation, had 
not the darkness of the evening prevented his companion from 
seeing his face ; he discovered, from the description and the pecu- 
liarities mentioned, that the soldier's dream related to a garden 
which had once been his own, and which he disliked from the 
remembrance that it had been his father's hobby. 

The old cripple became instantly interesting to Franz, who now 
comprehended that he was the very friend to whom the spectre 
had directed him. He would fain have embraced him, and, in his 
first delight, have called him father and friend, but prudence 
suggested greater caution. He therefore merely said, " That was 
indeed a distinct dream ! But, what did you do the next morning, 
friend ? Did you follow the advice ? '"' " Not I, indeed ! " answered 
the invalid. " Why it was only a dream." Franz took the last 
silver coin out of his pocket ; "Take this," he said, " old father, 
go and drink my health in a pint of rhenish ; thy conversation 
has banished my ill temper. Do not forget to visit this bridge 
every day; I hope we shall meet again." The lame old man had 
not, for many days, received so much as on this day ; he blessed 
his benefactor, therefore, and limped into a tavern to enjoy him- 
self; while Franz, filled with new hopes, hurried home to his 
lodgings in the narrow street. 

On the next day he prepared everything necessary for digging. 
He had not the materials usually employed by searchers after 
treasure ; such as, a conjuration from an osier twig, an enchanted 
girdle, hieroglyphics, and the like ; neither are they necessary, 
if the three principal things,— viz., a pickaxe, spade, and, above 
all, the subterraneous treasures are at hand. Soon after sunset, 
Franz carried the digging implements near to the spot, and hid 
them in a hedge. He waited for the appearance of the moon 
with great impatience, and, as soon as her silvery horns were 
seen through the bushes, he began his labour, observing, in its 
progress, to pay attention to everything the old soldier had said ; 
and, at length, actually found and got out the treasure, without 
any accident or opposition, either from a black mastiff/" or a 
scowling wolf, and without having the light of a blue flame to 
guide him. 

He took up, with unspeakable joy, some of the different gold 
coins which the iron chest had faithfully guarded. After the first 
delight had somewhat subsided, he began to consider how he 
might transport the treasure safely and unperceived to his lodg- 
ings, It was too heavy for him to carry it without assistance, 
and he experienced, therefore, immediately, some of the anxiety 
which is inseparably united to the possession of wealth. Our 



MUTE LOVE. 



33 



new Croesus could discover no other way but to place bis riches 
in a hollow tree, which stood in a meadow behind the garden ; 
he then put the empty chest back into the hole, covered it with 
earth, and made the ground as level as he could. At the end of 
three days, he had carried all the money-bags from the holiow 
tree safely to his own humble dwelling. Thinking himself now 
authorized to throw off his incognito, he dressed himself richly, 
desired the prayers at church to be discontinued, and a thanks- 
giving to be offered in its place, for a traveller on his safe return 
to his native city, after having successfully concluded his busi- 
ness. He hid himself in a corner of the church, where he might, 
unobserved, see his beloved Mela; his eyes were fixed on her, 
and when the thanksgiving was pronounced, her cheeks glowed 
with joy, and she could scarcely conceal her raptures. Their 
meeting afterwards in the church was so expressive, that nobody 
who had seen it could have misinterpreted it. 

From this time forward, Franz again appeared at change, and 
entered into business. He extended his transactions greatly in 
a few weeks, and, as his prosperity became every day more appa- 
rent, his envious fellow-citizens observed, according to the old 
proverb, that he must have had more luck than sense to get rich 
in collecting old debts. He took a large house opposite the 
statue of Sir Roland, in the principal square ; engaged clerks and 
servants, and applied himself with great earnestness to his busi- 
ness. Those miserable races of parasites and toadeaters again 
flocked to his door, and hoped once more to be the partakers of 
his wealth. But, grown wise by experience, he returned only 
polite speeches for politeness, and allowed them to depart with an 
empty stomach, which he found to be a sovereign remedy, and it 
freed him at once from all further trouble from them. 

In Bremen, Franz became the talk of the day ; the fortune he 
had made abroad, in such an unaccountable manner, quite occu- 
pied the public attention. In proportion as his opulence increased, 
and became more known, Mela's happiness seemed to diminish. 
She thought her mute lover was at last in a condition to declare 
himself ; still he remained silent, except occasionally meeting her 
in the street, and even here he became daily less attentive. Such 
a demeanour showed but a cold lover ; and that harpy, jealousy, 
soon began to torment her, whispering the most unpleasant sus- 
picions possible : " Let me banish the fond hope of fixing so 
variable a being, thus changing like a weathercock, blown about 
i by the least breeze. True, he loved, and was faithful to me as long 
as he was my equal in rank ; but with this revolution in his affairs, 
he looks down upon the purest affection, because of its poverty. 
Surrounded with wealth and splendour, he perhaps adores some 
haughtier beauty, who abandoned him in Ms misfortune, but now, 
with her siren voice, calls him back. Yes, and the voice of adula- 
tion has changed his heart. His new companions tell him to 



34 



POPULAR TALES. 



choose from among the richest and loftiest of his native place ; 
that no fathers would refuse their daughters, no maidens reject 
him as a lover. They will make him fond of power and import- 
ance ; he will connect himself with some mighty family, and forget 
his poor Mela." 

Thoughts like these tormented her incessantly. The first time 
she had heard of his prosperity, she hailed it with delight ; not 
because she was ambitious to share so large a fortune, but to 
gratify her mother, who had never been thoroughly happy 
since she resigned the wealthy brewer. Mela now almost wished 
that the prayers which had been offered up for his success had 
not been heard, and that the traveller's business had not suc- 
ceeded, as he would then, perhaps, have proved more faithful. 

Her mother was at no loss to discover the cause of her daugh- 
ter's melancholy. The report of the late lint merchant's unproved 
circumstances had reached her ; she was aware of Mela's attach- 
ment ; and as he was now a busy reputable merchant, and the 
very model of good order, she could no longer see any reason for 
his delaying his offer of marriage, if he really wished to possess 
her. She never mentioned the subject to Mela, in order not to 
wound her feelings ; but the latter, no longer able to conceal her 
grief, at length confided the source of it to her mother. The old 
lady, however, only heard what she knew well enough before ; 
though it gave occasion for her to offer her opinion on the sub- 
ject. Above all, she avoided saying a single word of reproach, 
being resolved to make the best of everything that could not be 
helped. In fact, she tried every means she could of consoling her 
unhappy daughter, teaching her to bear up against her blighted 
prospects with piety and firmness. 

" Dearest child,"' she would say, " as you have brewed, you 
know, so you must bake ; you threw away Fortune when she 
solicited, and you must learn to bear her loss. Experience has 
shown me that the hope we most count upon is often delusive. 
Follow my example; listen to it no longer, and endless disap- 
pointments will no longer destroy your peace. Look for no 
favourable change in your fate, and you will soon be contented. 
It is better to honour our spinning-wheel, which procures us the 
means of living, than to dream of greatness and wealth, since we 
have learnt to do without them." Such philosophical remarks 
came from the good old lady's heart, since the failure of her last 
dear hope connected with the worthy brewer. 

But now came a report that Franz was preparing an establish- 
ment for the reception of his bride, a rich lady of Antwerp, who 
was on the point of arriving. This was, indeed, a death-blow to 
poor Mela's hopes, and was too much even for her feelings of 
resignation. She vowed to tear the image of the faithless wretch 
for ever from her heart, and to dry her tears, — while at the same 
time they flowed afresh. 



MUTE LOVE. 



.35 



In an hour, — and there were many such, when she quite forgot 
her tow, and was recurring with sweet and bitter fancies to the 
one loved idea, however she esteemed it unworthy her, — she was 
roused by a low tap at the door. Her mother opened it ; — it was 
Franz ; their old neighbour Franz, from the narrow street. He 
wore a rich dress, and his fine brown curls clustered round his 
forehead, and seemed to perfume the room. So splendid an 
appearance betokened some more important object than selling 
lint. The old lady started — she attempted to speak ; but the 
words faltered on her lips. Mela rose suddenly from her seat ; — 
she blushed and grew pale by turns, but remained silent, as well 
as her mother. Franz, however, was perfectly at his ease ; he 
now adapted words to the soft melody which he had often played 
on his lute ; and in bold open terms he at length declared his 
long silent love. Then, turning to the happy mother, he solemnly 
entreated her consent to his union with her daughter. Next he 
gave an explanation of all suspicious circumstances, concluding 
by declaring that the bride for whom preparations had been 
making was only the fair Mela herself. 

On recovering from her surprise, the ceremonious old lady 
determined, as a matter of propriety, to take one week's consider- 
ation, though tears of joy were in her eyes, and eloquently spoke 
the consent she could not. Franz, however, became so pressing, 
that she was compelled to steer a middle course between old 
custom and propriety and the wishes of the new lover ; and she 
delegated her daughter to give an answer agreeable to herself. 
A strange revolution had been at work in Mela's heart since his 
entrance into the room. No stronger proof of his innocence could 
be imagined than such a visit; his apparent mdrrlerence was all 
explained. He had been so very assiduous and active in his 
business, and in preparing also for their marriage, that he had not 
sooner had time ; but there was now no reason why she should 
refuse her consent. 

The happy lovers had now, for the first time, leisure to trans- 
late into its proper language the hieroglyphics of their secret 
correspondence, — which they soon discovered they had already 
understood, — and to do justice to each other's sentiments. This 
supplied them with a pleasant subject of conversation, and it was 
long before Franz took leave of his amiable bride. 

He now wished to meet with his old friend the soldier, whom 
he had always remembered, though he had apparently neglected 
him. On his part, the cripple had examined the faces of all the 
passengers who had appeared on the bridge, without recognising 
his generous young friend, as he had been led to expect ; but the 
moment he saw him approach, he limped as fast as his crutch 
could carry him, to bid him welcome ; and Franz, kindly hailing 
the old man, said, " Do you think, friend, you could go with me to 
the new town on business ? you shall be well paid for your trouble? " 



36 



POPULAR TALES. 



"Why not?" returned the old veteran; "I have a wooden 
leg that is never tired ; and I can walk at a pretty smart pace I 
when it suits me. Only wait a little, till the little grey man 
comes ; he never fails to cross the bridge towards evening." 

" There is no need to wait for the little grey man," said Franz : 
" what can you have to do with him ?" 

" What!" repeated the soldier; "why, the grey man brings 
me a silver groat every night of his life, from whom I neither 
know nor care. Sometimes a thought crosses me, that it must be j 
the Evil One, who wants me to barter my soul for money. But 
he has made no such proposal, so I shall not be bound by it." 

" I fancy not," said our hero, smiling ; "but if you will now 
follow me, you shall have the silver groat." So the cripple fol- 
lowed him through a number of streets, into a remote part of the 
town near the rampart. There he stopped before a small house, 
just newly built, and knocked at the door. On its being opened, | 
Franz walked in, and said to the old man, " My friend, thou hast 
once bestowed upon me a very pleasant evening, and it is right 
that I should cheer up the evening of thy life. Behold this house I 
and all its contents ! they are thine, with the little garden beyond. 
There will be a person to take care of you, and you will find the 
silver groat every day upon your dining-table. Fear not the Evil 
One on the score of thy silver groat, old fellow, for he in the gray 
jacket was no other than an agent of mine. He appeared only to 
bring you the money until this thy new dwelling was provided. 

Next morning the abode of the fair Mela resembled a fair ; 
such was the throng of milliners, jewellers, lace-merchants, tailors, 
shoemakers, and semstresses, all vying with each other in laying 
their treasures at her feet. Mela spent the whole of that day in 
selecting the various articles which, in those days, made up a 
bridal-dress, and in giving orders to the tradespeople. The bride- 
groom went, in the mean time, to procure the banns to be pub- 
lished ; for, in those days, the wealthy and high-born were not 
ashamed to tell the whole world they meant to contract the solemn 
engagement of marriage ; and, before the expiration of a month, 
he led his long-loved Mela to the altar, with so much pomp and 
solemnity, as very far to outshine even the splendid wedding of 
the rich breyrer. 

Mother Brigitta had the satisfaction to see her daughter united 
to a prosperous and deserving young man; and to enjoy, in the 
evening of her life, that comfort she had so long wished for ; and, 
indeed, she deserved her good fortune, for she was the most 
tolerable mother-in-law that ever lived. 



( 37 ) 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



5*5£^*?3^HREE miles beyond Dinkelsbukl, in Swabia, there 
^nf^fe stood in former times an old castle, which belonged 
^<yj?pvSb) to a powerful knight called Wackerman Uhlfinger, 
1j$1£0^ tne nower °f nst an( ^ C ^ u ^ ruling knighthood, the 
^JvW^M terror of the Swabian confederated states, as well as 
of all travellers and merchants, who had no letter of protection 
from him. Whenever Wackerman put on his cuirass and helmet, 
girded his sword on his loins, and buckled his golden spurs on his 
heels, he was, after the manner of his contemporaries, a rude 
hard-hearted man, who considered robbery and plunder the pre- 
rogative of nobility ; he made war against the weak ; and, because 
he himself was lusty and stout, he recognised no other law than 
the right of the strong. When it was rumoured, "Uhlfinger is ap- 
proaching — Wackerman comes," terror spread throughout Swabia ; 
the people fled into the fortified cities, and the watchmen from 
the battlements of the walls blew their horns, and made known 
the approach of danger. In that rude age, however, this barbarous 
heroism did not make his fame so abhorred throughout the land, 
as would have been the case in our more civilized age. 

But this dreaded man, when he had laid aside his armour at 
home, was as quiet as a lamb, hospitable as an Arabian, a good- 
tempered head of the family and a tender husband. His wife 
was a tender and loving woman, well-bred and virtuous ; like whom 
there are very few, even in this day. She loved her husband 
with inviolable constancy, and attended industriously to her 
household concerns, never looked out of the lattice in search of 
unlawful adventures when her husband was away, but covered 
her distaff with flax as fine as silk, turned her spindle with an 
active hand, and wove a thread which the Lydian Arachne would 
have claimed as her own. She was the mother of two daughters, 
whom she brought up with the greatest care, in virtue and 
frugality. In this cloister-like seclusion nothing disturbed her 
happiness but the freebooties of her husband, who enriched him- 
self with unrighteous wealth. In her heart she disapproved of 
these privileged robberies, and it gave her no joy when he pre- 
sented her with lordly stuffs, embroidered with gold and silver for 
rich clothes. "What good is plunder to me," she often said to 
herself, "on which hang sobs and tears?" She threw these 
gifts with secret aversion into her chests, and thought them worthy 
of no further notice, compassionated the unfortunate ones who 



38 POPULAR TALES. 

fell into Wackerman's custody, and, through her intercession, 
often set them at liberty, and provided them with money for their 
journey. 

At the foot of the castled mountain, a plentiful spring, con- 
cealed among deep bushes, gushed out of a natural grotto, and, 
according to an old tradition, it was inhabited by a water nymph 
called Nixa, and the saying went that she sometimes, on par- 
ticular occasions, showed herself in the castle. The noble lady 
often wandered alone to this spring, when, in the absence of her 
husband, she wished to breathe fresh air, outside the thick walls 
of the castle, or to perform some charitable deeds in retirement 
without attracting notice. She met there the poor whom the 
porters would not admit, and distributed, on certain days, not 
only the best things from her table, but carried her humble good- 
nature sometimes as far as the holy Landgravine Elizabeth, who, 
with stoical contempt of all repugnant feelings, with her royal 
hand, at St. Elizabeth's well, washed the beggars' linen. 

Once Wackerman had gone with his followers to encamp and to 
waylay the merchants who came from Augsburg market ; and 
stayed away longer than was his wont. This made the tender wife 
anxious ; she fancied that her lord had met with some misfortune ; 
that he might be slain, or have fallen into the enemy's power. Her 
heart- was so heavy that she could neither sleep nor rest; already 
many days had she fretted, wavering between fear and hope, and 
often she cried out to the dwarf who held watch on the tower, 
" Kleinhansel, look out ! what rustles through the wood ? What 
sound of trampling in the valley ? In what direction does the dust 
blow ? Does Wackerman approach ? " But Kleinhansel answered 
very sorrowfully, " Nothing stirs in the wood. Nothing rides in 
the valley; no dust is blown, and no plume of feathers waves." 
This went on till night, when the evening star rose, and the light 
of the fall moon shone over the eastern mountains. Then she 
could not contain herself between the four walls of her chamber ; 
she threw on her mantle, stole through the gates into the beech- 
grove, and wandered to her beloved spot, the crystal spring, in 
order to indulge undisturbed her sorrowful thoughts. Her eyes 
flowed with tears, and her mouth uttered melodious waitings 
which mingled with the rushing of the stream, as it murmured from 
the spring through the grass. While she approached the grotto, 
it appeared as if a light shadow hovered at its entrance ; but her 
heart was so much troubled that she recked very little of it, 
and, at first sight, she thought that the quivering moonlight 
had presented to her this ideal figure. When she came nearer, 
the white figure seemed to move and to motion her with the 
hand. Then a shuddering came over her, yet she did not retreat, 
but stood to see what it really was. The tradition of the spring 
of Nixa, which was believed in the country round, was not un- 
known to her. She now recognised in the white lady, the nymph 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



39 



of the spring, and this appearance seemed to her to foretel some 
important event in the family. What thought conld now be 
nearer to her than that of her husband ? She tore her black 
locks, and raised a loud cry . " Oh unhappy day ! Wackerman ! 
Wackerman ! thou art fallen, cold and dead ! Thou hast made 
me a widow, and thy children orphans.'"' Whilst she thus lamented 
and wrung her hands, a soft voice proceeded from the grotto : 
" IvTatilda, fear not, I announce no misfortune to thee. Approach 
nearer, I am thy Mend and desire to converse with thee." The 
noble lady saw so little cause of alarm in the figure and speech 
of Nixa, that she took courage to accept the invitation. She 
entered the grotto ; the inhabitant took her hand friendlily, 
kissed her forehead, sat down cordially beside her, and began ;— 
" Welcome to my dwelling, beloved mortal ; thy heart is pure and 
clear as the water of my spring, therefore are the invisible powers 
favourable to thee. I will disclose to thee the fate of thy life, the 
only token of favour which I can grant thee. Thy husband lives, 
and before morning dawns he will again be in thy arms. Do not 
fear nor mourn for him ; the spring of thy life will earlier fade 
than his ; but before that, thou shalt kiss another daughter, who, 
born in an eventful hour, shall derive thereby, in a changeful un- 
certain manner, both good and bad fate. The stars are not 
unpropitious to her ; but a hateful counter influence shall rob the 
orphan of the happiness of a mother's care." It grieved the 
noble lady very much, when she heard that her little daughter 
should be deprived of a mother's care, and she burst into loud 
weephig. The Nymph was much moved : " Weep not," said she, 
" I will take the place of a mother to thy child, when thou canst 
not guide her ; but with this condition, that thou choose me as 
godmother to the tender child, that I may have an interest in 
her. Then remember, that if thou wilt intrust this child to my 
care she must bring back to me the sponsor's gift that I will give 
her at her christening." The lady Matilda acquiesced in this 
desire; thereupon the Nixa picked up a smooth pebble, and gave 
it her, saying, further, that she was to send it by a trusty maiden 
to throw it into the spring as a mark of invitation to the sponsor- 
ship. The lady Matilda promised faithfally to perforin ail, kept 
these words in her heart, and returned to the castle ; but the 
nymph went back again into the spring and disappeared. 

Not long after, the dwarf blew the trumpet joyfully from the 
tower, and Wackerman, with his followers, rode into the court 
laden with rich booty. After the course of a year, the lady per- 
ceived that the prophecy was about to be fulfilled; but it gave 
her great anxiety how she should manage about the sponsorship ; 
her thoughts were all taken up how she should disclose to her 
husband her adventure at Nixa's spring. It came to pass that 
Wackerman received a challenge from a knight whom he had 
offended, and they resolved upon a combat for life or death. He 



40 



POPULAR TALES. 



hastily prepared for his journey, and when he was on the point 
of setting out, and, according to custom, took leave of his wife, 
she inquired carefully about his designs, pressed him, contrary to 
her usual habit, to tell her against whom he was marching ; and, 
when he kindly reproved her unusual curio sity, she covered her 
face and wept bitterly. This touched the knight to the heart, 
though he would not show it, but set off and hastened to the 
place of action, attacked his adversary, slew liim after a spirited 
contest, and returned home triumphantly. His affectionate wife 
received him with open arms, conversed with him cheerfully, and 
left nothing imtried to sound him, with smooth words and 
womanly arts, as to what adventure he had undertaken ; but he 
carefully locked up his heart, fastened all its approaches with the 
bars of insensibility, and revealed nothing to her ; nay, much 
more, he jested at her curiosity, and said laughingly, "Oh! 
mother Eve, thy daughters are not yet degenerate ; curiosity and 
mquisitiveness are still woman's heritage to this day ; any one 
of these would have desired to pluck from the forbidden tree, or 
to lift up the lid of the prohibited dish, and would thereby have 
let out the little mouse that lay therein." — " Pardon me, beloved 
husband," answered the prudent lady, "men have also received 
their appointed share of mother Eve's heritage ; the only differ- 
ence is, that a worthy woman dares keep no secret from her hus- 
band. I lay a wager that, if my heart could conceal anything 
from you, you would not sleep nor rest till I had disclosed to 
you my secret." — "And I," answered he, "give you my word 
that your secret would not concern me at all : I allow you to 
make the trial." 

This was the point to which the lady Matilda wanted to bring 
her husband. "TV ell," said she, "my dear lord, it is permitted 
me to choose one of the sponsors who shall stand godmother to 
my child. Now, I have a friend in my mind unknown to you, 
and my request is that you never press me to tell you who she is, 
how she comes, nor where she dwells. When you have promised 
me this on your knightly honour, and kept your promise, I shall 
have lost my wager, and will freely acknowledge that manly 
spirit triumphs over womanly weakness." Wackerman unhesi- 
tatingly gave his wife this promise, and she rejoiced at the happy 
success of her stratagem. In a few days a little girl was born. 
Although the father would rather have embraced a son, he rode 
very cheerfully to his neighbours and friends, to invite them to 
the christening. 

The company assembled on the appointed day ; and, when the 
mother heard the noise of carriages, the neighing of horses, and 
the bustle in the courtyard, she called a trusty servant to her, 
and said, " Take this pebble, throw it silently behind thee, into 
the Nixa's spring." The servant did as the lady had enjoined, 
and, before he returned, an unknown lady entered the room 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



11 



where the company were assembled, bowed courteously to the 
lords and ladies present, and, as the child was brought in, and 
the priest approached the font, she took her place among the 
godmothers. Every one gave place to her as a stranger, and she 
held the child first in her arms over the font. All eyes were 
fixed on her, as she was so beautiful, so well-bred, and so sump- 
tuously clothed. She had a flowing robe of sky-blue silk, open up 
the front, and white satin underneath; over this she was adorned 
with jewels and pearl ornaments as richly as our Lady at Loretto 
on a gala day. A glittering sapphire clasped her transparent 
veil, which fell in thin folds from the crown of her head over her 
beautifully-arranged hair, across her shoulders, and down to her 
feet ; but the veil was wet, as if it had been dipped in water. 
The unexpected appearance of the strange lady had so much 
interrupted the assembled godmothers in their devotions, that 
they forgot to give the child a name ; so the priest baptized it 
Matilda, after its mother. When the christening was over, the 
little Matilda was carried back to her mother, and the godfathers 
crowded around to wish the child happiness, and the godmothers 
to offer their presents. The lady Matilda seemed somewhat 
embarrassed at the aspect of Nixa ; perhaps also surprised that 
she had so faithfully kept her word. She cast a stolen glance at 
her husband, who answered with a smile, in which she could 
read nothing ; and, for the rest, he seemed to take no further 
notice of the stranger. The godmothers' presents now gave them 
other occupation ; a shower of gold streamed, from liberal hands, 
over the child. The unknown at last approached with her pre- 
sent, and disappointed the expectations of all the sponsors. They 
anticipated, from the splendidly-attired lady, a jewel or other 
memorial of great worth, particularly as she produced a silken 
pocket, which she drew out of another with great care ; but my 
lady godmother had nothing wrapped up in it but a musk-apple, 
turned in wood. She laid this solemnly in the child's cradle, 
kissed the mother friendlily on the forehead, and left the room. 
At this pitiful present, a secret whisper arose among those pre- 
sent, which soon broke out into a scornful laugh. There failed 
not to arise many malicious remarks and speculations as to how 
she came into the room ; but, as the knight and his lady observed 
a profound silence, there remained nothing for the curious chat- 
terers but to entertain their own idle conjectures. The unknown 
appeared no more, and none knew whither she had vanished. 

Wackerman was secretly tormented with the desire to ask who 
the stranger might be, as nobody knew the name by which the 
lady with the wet veil was called; only his dislike, as a knight, 
to show himself guilty'of woman's weakness, and the inviolability 
of his plighted word, bound his tongue, when, in the hours of 
matrimonial intimacy, the question would rise, as it often 
did, to his lips, " Tell me, my dear, who was the godmother with 



42 



POPULAR TALES. 



the wet veil?" He thought, however, to gain the secret from 
her in time, and reckoned on the qualities of woman's heart, 
which possesses in as small a degree the gift of secrecy, as a 
sieve the property of retaining fluid. But this time he was out 
in his reckoning ; the Lady Matilda knew how to keep silence, 
and preserve the mysterious riddle as carefully hi her heart, as 
she did the musk-apple in her jewel-box. 

Before the little girl had escaped from leading-strings, the pro- 
phecy of the nymph was fulfilled on her good mother ; she fell 
suddenly ill, and died, without having time to think of the musk- 
apple, or with it, according to the arrangement of Nixa, to com- 
mend the little Matilda to her care. Her husband was then 
present at a tournament at Augsburg, and, honoured with the 
approbation of the Emperor Frederic, returned home. When the 
dwarf, from the tower, saw his lord riding hi the distance, he blew 
his hom, according to custom ; but he did not produce from it 
a cheerful note, but, on the contrary, blew a mournful strain. 
This went through the knight's heart, and pierced his very soul. 
" What sound,'"' said he, " strikes on my ear? Do you hear, 
squires, is it not a dissonant croak, a death-song ? Kleinhansel 
announces nothing good to us." The squires, too, were con- 
founded ; they saw their lord mournful, and said to one another, 
" That is the note of the bird ' kreideweiss.' May God avert 
misfortune — there is a corpse in the castle L" Wackerman spurred 
on his steed, and rode over the plain so swiftly, that the sparks 
flew from his horse's heels. The drawbridge fell, he looked into 
the courtyard, and, alas ! the sign of death was placed before the 
castle- gate — a lantern, without a light, adorned with waving crape, 
while all the window-shutters were closed. Then he perceived, by 
the sobs and lamentations of the servants, that the Lady Matilda 
was no more ! At the head of the coffin he saw the two eldest 
daughters, clothed in black, who wept over their deceased mother 
with many tears. At the foot of the coffin sat the youngest 
daughter ; as yet unable to comprehend her loss, pulling to pieces, 
with childish glee, and playing with, the flowers with which the 
bier was adorned. This melancholy sight overpowered Wacker- 
man's manly firmness ; he wept and wailed aloud, threw himself 
on the cold body, bedewed the pale cheeks with his tears, pressed 
with trembling mouth the white lips, and gave way, without 
restraint, to all the bitter feelings of ids heart. Then he hung up 
his weapons in the armory, sat by the coffin in a flapped hat and 
black mourning cloak, bewailed his departed wife, and bestowed 
upon her the last honours, in a magnificent funeral. 

According to the observation of a great man, the most violent 
grief is always the shortest ; and so this distressed widower soon 
forgot his sorrow, and thought seriously of repairing his loss by 
taking a second wife. His choice fell on an impetuous active 
woman, quite the reverse of the gentle Matilda. The government 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



43 



of the house took immediately another form; the new mistress 
behaved proudly and imperiously to the servants ; she loved 
splendour and extravagance ; and there was no end to the feasts 
and banquets which she gave. The house was soon peopled with 
numerous descendants of the new stock ; and the daughters by 
the first marriage were no longer thought of. When the elder 
daughters grew up, the stepmother sought to rid herself of them, 
and sent them to board hi a convent, at Diinkelsbuhl; the little 
Matilda was placed under the care of a nurse, and was transferred 
to a little remote chamber, where she was out of sight of the vain 
lady, who did not meddle much with the cares of the family. 
Her extravagant expenditure increased also ; so that the profits 
of the fist and club rights, though the knight did not slacken his 
former activity, were no longer sufficient ; and she often saw her- 
self compelled to make use of the property left by her predecessor, 
or to borrow gold from the Jews. Once she found herself in a 
particularly distressing position. She sought through drawers 
and chests for something valuable, and at last discovered a 
secret compartment, and a concealed press, in which, to her °:reat 
joy, she found the Lady Matilda's jewel-case. The sparkling 
jewels, diamond rings, earrings, bracelets, girdles, and other 
trinkets, delighted her charmed eyes. She examined all accu- 
rately, counted piece by piece, and calculated in her mind what 
profit this splendid discovery would bring her. Among these 
valuables the wooden musk-apple met her eyes. For a long 
time she did not know what to make of it: she tried to unscrew 
it, but it was swollen by the damp. She shook it in her hand, 
and found it as light as an empty nut ; so she took it for an 
empty ring-case, and supposing it contained nothing valuable, she 
threw it at once out of the window. At this moment, the little 
Matilda was sitting in her narrow garden, playing with 'her doll. 
When she saw the wooden ball roll down on the ground, she 
threw the doll out of her hand, seized her new plaything with 
childish eagerness, and was as much delighted with her discovery 
as her mamma with hers. She amused herself many days with 
this toy, and would not let it out of her hands. One beautiful 
summer's day, the nurse desired to enjoy, with her foster daugh- 
ter, the fresh breeze by the rock spring ; at evening-tide the child 
asked for her honey-roll, which her nurse had forgotten to bring. 
She did not wish to go back again ; and to keep the child in good 
humour she went into the thicket to pluck for her a handful of 
raspberries. The child, in the meantime, played with the musk- 
apple, threw it here and there, like a catch-ball, till, in one of the 
throws, the child's plaything fell into the spring. Immediateiy 
there stood before her a young lady, as beautiful as an angel, and 
as mild as one of the Graces. The child, alarmed at the sudden 
appearance, thought she saw her stepmother before her, who 
always thrust her rudely about, and beat her whenever she came 



44 



POPULAR TALES. 



under her eye. But the Nymph caressed her with soft words : 
" Fear not, dear little one," said she, " I am thy godmother, come 
to me. See, here is thy plaything which fell into the spring." 
And with these words, she took up the little Matilda in her lap, 
pressed her tenderly to her bosom, embraced and kissed her, and 
moistened her with tears. " Poor orphan," said she, " I have 
promised to take a mother's place to thee, and I will fulfil it. 
Visit me often, thou wilt always find me in this grotto, if thou 
wilt throw a stone into the spring. Examine this musk-apple 
carefully, and do not play with it, for fear of losing it ; it will 
grant thee three wishes. When thou art grown up I will tell thee 
more ; now thou canst not comprehend." She then gave her 
many good admonitions, suited to the child's age, and enjoined 
perfect silence as to what had happened. The nurse came back, 
and the Nymph disappeared. 

The proverb says, " Now-a-days, no child is prudent ; in olden 
times it was different." The little Matilda, at least, was a wise 
and cautious child ; she had discretion enough not to mention her 
lady godmother to her nurse, but, on her return home, asked for 
a needle and thread, and sewed up the musk-apple carefully in 
the lining of her dress. Her wishes and thoughts were now all 
directed to the Nixa's spring ; as often as the weather allowed, 
she obliged her nurse to take a walk ; and because she could not 
refuse anything to the coaxing child, and this desire seemed 
natural to her, (for the grotto had been her mother's favourite 
resting-pla,ce,) she the more willingly agreed to the wish of the 
little one. The child always knew how to find a pretext to send 
her nurse away ; and as soon as she had turned her back, the 
stone fell into the water, and procured for her the society of the 
charming godmother. After a few years the little orphan bloomed 
into maidenhood, and her beauty opened like a bud of the hun- 
dred-blossoming rose, which, transplanted among a crowd of 
variegated flowers, shone forth in modest dignity. She bloomed, 
it is true, only in a narrow garden ; she lived retired among the 
servants, and when her luxurious mother feasted, she was never 
brought in, but sat in her chamber, occupied with household 
work ; and in the evening, after accomplishing her day's task, she 
found ample compensation for the noisy joys from which she was 
excluded, in the society of the Nymph of the Fountain ; she was 
not only her companion and friend, but also her teacher; she in- 
structed the maiden in all the arts of womanly skill, and formed her 
mind and habits after the example of her virtuous mother. One 
day the Nymph seemed to redouble her tenderness towards the 
charming Matilda, she clasped her in her arms, drooped her head 
on her shoulders, and was so melancholy and sorrowful, that the 
maiden, too, was infected by it, and could not refrain from letting 
some tears fall on her godmother's hand, as she silently kissed 
her. At this mutual feeling the Nymph was still more sorrowful : 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



45 



" Child," said she, with a mournful voice, " thou weepest and 
knowest not why, but thy tears are a presentiment of thy fate. 
A great change menaces thy house on the mountain; before the 
reaper handles the scythe, and the wind blows over the stubble 
of the wheat-fields, it will be deserted and waste. When the 
servants of the castle go out in the evening twilight to draw water 
from my spring, and return with empty pails, then know that 
misfortune is at hand. Take care of thy musk-apple, which will 
grant thee three wishes, and be not prodigal of them. Farewell, 
in this place we meet not again." She then taught the maiden 
the mysterious properties of the apple, that she might make use of 
it in case of necessity, wept and sobbed at parting, and as soon 
as the maiden was fully instructed in the mystic words, she 
finally disappeared. 

At the time of the wheat harvest, the drawers of water returned 
one evening with empty pitchers, pale and terrified, trembling in 
all their limbs, as if shaking with the cold of an intermittent fever; 
and they related that the White Lady had been seen sitting by the 
spring, with mournful gestures, wringing her hands and loudly 
wailing, a sign which foreboded no good. This the warriors and 
armour-bearers mocked at ; they thought it delusion, and mere 
woman's prattle. Curiosity impelled some to investigate the 
affair ; they saw the apparition, but recovering their presence of 
mind, went forward to the spring. When they came there, 
the White Lady had disappeared, and many were the comments 
and discussions on the matter; nobody could understand the 
omen, Matilda alone knew, but she would not divulge it, because 
the Nymph had enjoined silence. She sat alone and sad in her 
chamber, in fear and expectation of the things that should 
happen. 

Wackerman could not satisfy his extravagant wife by robbery 
and plunder, and when he did not go out on these predatory ex- 
peditions, she prepared for him' daily a life of pleasure, called his 
topers together, encouraged his love of wine, and never allowed 
him to wake from his sleep of intoxication, and to perceive the 
decay of his house. When money or food were wanting, fresh 
supplies were always procured by the robbery of Jacob Fugger's 
heavy wagon, or by the seizure of rich parcels from Venice. 
Tired of these extortions, the general congress of the Suabian 
alliance at last resolved on Uhlfinger's destruction, since dis- 
suasions and warnings had been tried in vain. Before he even 
thought it was seriously intended, the soldiers of the allied cities 
stood before the gate of his mountain fortress, and hemmed him 
in ; and there remained nothing for him now but to sell his life as 
dearly as possible. The bombs and pieces of artillery shook the 
bastions, and the cross-bow men, on both sides, did their best; 
bolts and arrows showered thick, and one of them, in an unlucky 
hour, pierced the \isor of Wackerman's helmet, sunk deep into 



40 



POPULAR TALES. 



his brain, and in a few moments he lay in the cold sleep of death. 
At the fall of their lord, his men-at-arms fell into confusion ; some 
of the faint-hearted ones showed the white feather, while the 
braver warriors rushed down again from the tower. The enemy 
now observed that disorder and confusion reigned within the 
tower, the besiegers assailed it more violently, climbed the walls, 
w- on the gate, let down the drawbridge, and put all they met with 
to the sword. Even the cause of all the mischief, the extravagant 
wife, was slain with all her children by the furious warriors, who 
were as furious against the plundering nobility as afterwards 
were the rebels in the Suabian peasants' war. The castle was 
entirely pillaged, set on fire, and, at last, levelled with the ground. 
During the timrult of the battle, Matilda kept quite quiet in the 
Patmos of her little attic, locked the door, and bolted it fast 
inside. But as she observed that all without was confusion, and 
that castle and bars could give her no further security, she threw 
her veil over her, turned her musk-apple three times in her hand, 
caught it skilfully while she repeated the little sentence which the 
Nymph taught her : " Night behind me, day before me, so that 
nobody may see me." And thus she walked unseen through the 
enemy's host, and out of the paternal citadel, although with a 
deeply sorrowful heart, and without knowing which way to take. 
As long as her tender feet did not refuse her their wonted 
service, she hastened on from the theatre of cruelty and devasta- 
tion, until, overcome by night and weariness, she resolved to lodge 
under a wild pear-tree in the open field. She sat down on the 
cool turf and gave free vent to her tears. Once more she looked 
round the country, and wished to bless the spot, where she had 
passed the years of childhood; as she raised her eyes, she saw a 
blood-red sign of fire rise to heaven, by which she judged that 
the mansion of her ancestors would soon be a prey to the flames. 
She turned her eyes away from this miserable spectacle, and 
earnestly desired that the twinkling stars might grow pale, and 
the morning dawn appear in the east. Before it grew light, and 
while the morning dew lay in drops on the grass, the uncertain 
pilgrim set off, and soon reached a village, where she was received 
by a good-natured peasant woman, and refreshed with a morsel 
of bread and a cup of milk. With this woman she exchanged her 
own dress for a peasant's clothing, and joined a caravan of mer- 
chants, who escorted her to Augsburg. In this woful and 
deserted condition, no other choice remained for her than to hire 
herself as a servant ; but, because it was out of the season, for a 
long time she could not find a situation. 

Count Conrad of Schwabeck, a German knight of the cross, and 
also governor and protector of the bishopric of Augsburg, pos- 
sessed there a sort of court, where he was accustomed to spend 
the winter. In his absence a housekeeper dwelt there, called Dame 
Gertrude, who conducted the domestic affairs. This woman was 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



17 



considered a perfect Zantippe, by the whole city ; no servant could 
remain with her, for she brawled and blustered about the house 
like a noisy ghost. The servants feared the rattle of her keys as 
children do the bugbear Rupert ; the least neglect, or even only 
her own wicked tempers, cups and pots must compensate for ; or 
she would arm her robust hands with a bunch of keys, and beat 
the servants on the back and loins black and blue ; in short, if 
anybody wanted to describe a wicked woman, he said, she is as 
mischievous as Dame Trube at the county court. One day she 
had carried her punishments to such a violent height, that all her 
servants ran away; and just at this time the gentle Matilda 
arrived and offered herself for service. To conceal her elegant 
shape, she had padded one shoulder as if she were deformed ; a 
broad headcloth concealed her beautiful silken hair, and she had 
spread over her hands and face with soot, to affect a gipsyish 
skin. When she rang the door-bell, and announced herself, Dame 
Gertrude put her head out of the window, and perceiving this odd 
figure, she thought it was a beggar, and called out, " This is no 
almonry, go to Jacob Fugger's almshouses, there farthings are 
distributed," and then she hastily shut the window. Miss Matilda 
would not let this deter her ; she rang long, till the housekeeper 
again appeared, intending to requite her importunity with a 
torrent of scoldings. But before she could open her toothless 
mouth, the maiden made known to her her wishes. " Who art 
thou," asked Dame Gertrude, " and what canst thou do ? " The 
pretended servant answered,— 

" A poor young orphan maid am I, 
Matilda named in infancy. 
I can iron, crimp, and sew, 
Spin and weave each varied hue, 
Knit and net, and cut, and pound, 
Roast and boil, and salt the round ; 
A skilful hand in every art, 
Alert and active as a hart." 

When the housekeeper heard these words, and perceived that the 
nut-brown maiden possessed so many useful talents, she opened 
the door, gave her the fee penny, and led her into the kitchen. 
She managed her employments so well that Dame Gertrude quite 
lost her habit of throwing pots at her servants. Although she 
always continued severe and sulky, and would blame every- 
thing, and wish it better done ; still she never met with opposition 
or retort from the maiden, who defended herself only by meekness 
and patience against her bitterness. She was better and more 
bearable than she had been for many years ; — a proof that good 
servants and good management, as well as good weather, make 
good and well-conducted governors. At the time of the first snow, 
the housekeeper had the house cleaned and swept, the windows 
washed, the curtains put up, and everything prepared for the re- 
ception of ber lord, who arrived with a numerous train of 



4:- 



POPULAR TALES. 



servants, and a multitude of horses and hunting hounds, at the 
beginning of the winter* 

It happened one morning when Matilda drew water in the 
court, that the Count met her, and his appearance produced 
feelings in her heart, quite new and strange to her ; the most 
beautiful young man she had ever seen stood before her; the 
cheerful fire of his sparkling eyes, his waving light hair, half 
concealed under the shadow of the ostrich feather in his hat, and 
his firm walk and noble manner, operated so powerfully on the 
maiden, that her heart beat quicker, and her blood rushed faster 
through her veins. She now perceived, for the first time, the 
great difference of her present station from that in which she 
was bom, and this feeling oppressed her more than the heavy 
bucket; very sorrowful she went back into the kitchen, and for 
the first time failed in her functions, and spoiled the soup, which 
procured for her, from the housekeeper, a sharp reproof. By 
night and day the handsome knight hovered before her eyes, it 
pleased her to see him often, and when he went across the court- 
yard, and she heard his spurs jingle, she always perceived a want 
of water in the kitchen, and hastened with a pail to the spring; 
if only she might obtain a sight of the handsome young noble- 
man. 

Count Conrad seemed to live only for enjoyment, he missed no 
kind of diversion and no festivity in the rich city, which intercourse 
with Venice had made luxurious. When Shrove-Tuesday's mum- 
meries began, the intoxication of joy seemed at its height. Matilda 
had no share in any of the sports, but sat in the smoky kitchen, 
and wept her languishing eyes almost sore, mourned over the 
caprice of fortune, which overwhelmed her favourites with the 
joys of life, and cast away from her despised devotees every happy 
moment. Her heart was sorrowful, without her properly knowing- 
why ; she was quite ignorant that love had nestled in her heart. 
This troublesome guest, who makes confusion in every hou>e 
where he takes shelter, in the daytime whispered to her a thou- 
sand romantic thoughts, and entertained her at night with waggish 
dreams. Soon she wandered with the lord in a flower-garden — 
soon she was confined between the holy walls of a cloister, and the 
Count stood outside the grating, desiring to converse with her, and 
the strict Abbess would not allow it ; soon again she was dancing 
with him at a ball. This delightful dream was often destroyed sud- 
denly by the sound of Gertrude's bunch of keys, with which in the 
morning she summoned the servants to their work. Still the ideas 
which this fantasy had excited during the night-season proved a 
source of enjoyment to her by day. Love shuns no danger, climbs 
mountains and rocks, jumps down precipices, finds ways and paths 
through the Libyan desert, and swhns on the back of the white 
bull over the stormy sea. The loving Matilda mourned and 
philosophised long till she found a means to realize her most 



TIIE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



49 



beautiful dream. She had the musk-apple of her godmother 
Xixa, which would procure her the fulfilment of three wishes. 
It had not occurred to her hitherto to open it and prove its pro- 
perties ; and now she wished to make the first trial. 

The citizens of Augsburg, on the birth of Prince Marcus, 
prepared a magnificent banquet in honour of the Emperor Frederic, 
and this feasting was to last three days, and many Prelates, 
Counts, and Lords were invited from the neighbourhood. Every 
day was set apart for a prize, and every evening the most beautiful 
maidens were invited to the town-hall, to dance with the noble 
knights, and this was to last till morning. Knight Conrad did 
not fail to be present at these festivities, and in the dance was 
the great hero and favourite of all the ladies and young maidens. 
Matilda had resolved on this occasion to undertake an adventure. 
After she had arranged the kitchen, and all was quiet in the house, 
she went to her chamber, washed with fine soap the sooty paint 
from her skin, and let the natural lilies and roses shine forth. 
Then she took the musk-apple in her hand, and wished for a box 
with a new dress, as beautiful and splendid as possible, with proper 
trimmings. She opened the lid, and drew forth a piece of silk, 
which lengthened and widened itself, rushed like a stream of water 
down to her lap, and became a perfect dress, with all the little 
ornaments pertaining to it, and it fitted her body as if it had been 
poured on it. She now delayed not to put her design into exe- 
cution ; — she turned the apple three times in her hand and said, — 

" Let all eyes close, 
And all repose." 

Immediately a deep sleep fell on all the servants, from the vigilant 
housekeeper to the porter. Miss Matilda was quickly outside 
the gate, wandered invisible through the streets, and entered with 
the demeanour of a goddess into the dancing-hall. Each and all 
wondered at the charming form of the maiden, and in the balcony 
which ran round the hall arose a whispering noise, as when the 
preacher says " Amen " from the pulpit. Some wondered at the 
beauty of the form of the unknown, others at the taste of her 
dress, whilst some desired to know who she was, and from whence 
she came, although no neighbour could give another a satisfactory 
answer. Among the knights and nobles who pressed around to 
view the stranger maiden, the Count was not the last ; he thought 
lie had never seen a more happy physiognomy, nor a more 
charming form. He approached her, and asked her to dance ; 
she modestly offered her hand, and danced beautifally to the 
admiration of all. Her light foot seemed scarcely to touch the 
ground; but the movements of her body were so noble and easy, 
that she charmed every eye. Knight Conrad enjoyed the dance 
with all his heart; he was quite smitten with his beautiful 
partner, and never left her side,— said all the fine things he could 



60 



popular tales* 



think of to her, and pressed his love-suit with earnestness and 
passion. Miss Matilda was as little mistress of her heart ; she 
conquered and was conquered ; her first essay in love nattered 
her with agreeable consequences, and it was impossible to her to 
conceal her feelings under the veil of womanly reserve, so that 
the knight might not remark that he was not a hopeless lover. 
It only remained for him now to know who the beautiful unknown 
was, and where she dwelt, that he might pursue his fortune. 
All inquiries were in vain ; she evaded every question, and with 
much trouble he obtained from her the promise to attend the 
dance on the following evening. He intended to outwit her, lest 
perchance she should not keep her word ; and he despatched all his 
servants to lie in wait, in order to discover her dwelling when she 
should go home. 

The morning was scarcely dawned ere Matilda found an oppor- 
tunity to escape from the knight and to leave the dancing-hall. 
As soon as she was out of the hall, she turned her musk-apple 
three times hi her hand, and repeated the little charm, — " Night 
behind me, day before me, so that nobody may see me,"— and so 
she reached her chamber without the Count's twilight birds, who 
were fluttering up and down every street, being able to perceive 
her. With her usual skill, she locked up her silken clothes in 
her chest, put on again her dirty kitchen- dress ; set about her 
business ; was earlier up than the rest of the servants, whom 
Dame Gertrude roused from their beds by the bunch of keys, 
and thus Miss Matilda earned a little praise from the housekeeper. 
Never had a day appeared so long to the knight as that after the 
ball ; every hour seemed to him a year ; the earnest desire and long- 
ing, the annoying doubts and cares, lest the inscrutable beauty 
should disappoint him, all disquieted his heart : suspicion is a con- 
sequence of love, and this now ran through his head as fast as the 
greyhounds through the court. In the evening he prepared for 
the ball, dressed himself more carefully than the previous day, 
and the three golden rings, the high distinction of nobility, set 
with diamonds^ sparkled now on the edge of his ruff. He was the 
first at the place of the joyous meeting, examined every comer 
with the keen glance of his noble eyes, and awaited with im- 
patience the appearance of the queen of the ball. The evening star 
had risen high above the horizon before the maiden found time to 
go to her chamber, and to think of what she would do ; whether 
she should ask the second wish of the musk-apple, or reserve 
it for a more important event in her life. The faithful counsellor 
Reason advised her to adopt the latter course ; but Love demanded 
the first with such impetuosity, that Dame Reason could not get 
in a word, and at last was not at all listened to. Matilda wished 
for another dress of rose-coloured satin, with a set of jewels as 
beautiful and splendid as a king's daughter was accustomed to 
wear. The good-natured musk-apple gave her what was in its 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



SI 



power, and the dress excelled her expectation. Cheerfully she 
made her toilet, and, by the help of the talisman, arrived, unper- 
ceived by any mortal eyes, where she was so anxiously expected. 
She was much more charming than the preceding day, and when 
the knight perceived her, his heart leaped for joy, and a power as 
irresistible as the gravitation of the earth impelled him towards 
her, through the vortex of dancers, there to stammer out his 
feelings. His heart beat, and his limbs shook ; for he had already 
given up all hopes of again seeing the maiden. To recover him- 
self again, and to hide his confusion, he asked her to dance, and 
all parties drew aside to look at this noble pair. The beautiful 
unknown floated delightfully round on the arm of the agile 
knight, as the goddess of flowers in spring, borne on the wings 
of the zephyr. 

At the conclusion of the dance Count Conrad at last led 
the tired dancer, under pretext of seeking refreshment, into 
a side apartment ; told her, in the language of a fine courtier, 
how charming he had found the previous day ; but imperceptibly 
the cold court language changed into the language of the heart, 
and he ended with a declaration of love, as tender and sincere 
as a wooer is accustomed to use who seeks a bride. The 
maiden listened to the knight with bashful joy, and after her 
beating heart and glowing cheeks had plainly manifested her 
feelings, and a declaration of her sentiments was demanded, she 
said very modestly, " What you have told me, noble knight, 
both yesterday and to-day, of your tender love, pleases me well, 
for I cannot believe that you are talking to me with deceitful 
words ; but how am I to share your married love, since you are 
a knight of Malta and have taken a vow to remain in singleness 
all your life ? If your meaning were only mischief and gallantry, 
you have spoken all your smooth words to the winds ; therefore, 
explain the riddle, and tell me how you can arrange it so that we 
may be wedded according to the rules of holy Church, and our 
union be indissoluble before God and man?" The knight an- 
swered earnestly and honourably, " You speak like a prudent 
and virtuous maiden, and I will, therefore, to your honest question 
give a candid answer, and free you from your doubts. At the 
time when I was admitted into the order of the Cross, my brother 
William, the heir of the family, was still alive ; but since his 
death, I have obtained a dispensation, as the last of my race, to 
be married, and to renounce the order, when it pleases me. But 
love for woman had never fettered my heart until the day I saw 
you. From that moment I was convinced that you, and no other, 
was destined by Heaven to become my wife. If "you refuse me not 
your hand, nothing but death shall ever sever us." — " Reflect 
well," answered Matilda, "that you do not afterwards repent; 
acting first and reflecting afterwards has brought much mischief 
into the world. You know not whether I am worthy of von, nor of 

F 



.32 



POPULAR TALES.. 



what station and rank I am ; whether I am your equal in birth and 
fortune, or whether only a borrowed glitter dazzles before your 
eyes. It becomes not a man of your station to promise anything 
thoughtlessly ; but sacredly to fulfil his promise according to the 
usage of noble hearts." 

Knight Conrad seized her quickly by the hand, pressed her to 
his bosom, and fondly exclaimed, " That I promise you, upon my 
honour and salvation! If you,'' continued he, "were the child 
of the lowest man; only a pure and innocent maiden; I will 
honourably make you my wife, and promote you to wealth and 
honour." Then he took a diamond ring, of great worth, from his 
finger, gave it into her hand as a pledge of fidelity, took the first 
kiss from her pure lips, and said, "That you may not mistrust my 
promise, I invite you to my house in three days, where I will 
appoint my friends, the prelates and lords, and other noblemen, 
to witness our marriage." Matilda, however, resolutely declined 
this, because the quick current of the knight's love did not alto- 
gether satisfy her, and she wished first to prove the constancy of 
his affection. He did not cease to press her for her consent ; but 
she would neither say yes nor no. As on the previous day, the 
company separated at morning dawn; Matilda disappeared; and 
the knight, from whose eyes sleep had fled, called his housekeeper 
very early, and gave her orders to prepare a splendid feast. As 
death, that dreaded skeleton, wanders with its scythe through 
palaces and thatched cottages, and unrelentingly mows down and 
kills all it meets ; so Dame Gertrude, the evening before the feast, 
armed her inexorable hand with the slaughtering knife, to the 
destruction of chickens and ducks, and bore in her hand, like the 
fates, the life or death of the tenantry of the poultry-yard. By 
her polished and murderous steel, the careless inhabitants fell by 
dozens ; for the last time their wings fluttered mournfully, and 
chickens, and pigeons, and foolish capons, and even turkey-cocks 
yielded up their lives. Miss Matilda had so many to pick, to 
scald, and to cook, that she was obliged to be up the whole night ; 
still she cared not for the trouble, for she knew that the grand 
banquet was all on her account. 

The feast began ; the host moved quickly about to every comer 
in the hall, and, whenever the bell rang, he expected his unknown 
beloved to enter the door ; but, when it was opened, only a prelate 
entered, or a solemn matron, or a venerable bailiff. The guests 
had been long assembled, and the server had not yet served up 
the meats. Knight Conrad still tarried for his beautiful bride ; 
but as she delayed so long, with secret vexation he directed 
the server to arrange the table. They sat down and found one 
extra dish ; but nobody could guess who it was that had slighted 
the invitation of their host. Every moment the knight's cheerful- 
ness diminished, he could no longer banish the look of dejection 
from his forehead, although he exerted himself by a forced 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



53 



serenity to keep up the good humour of his guests. This moody 
temper of their host soon soured the sweetness of social joy 
among the guests, and the feasting chamber became as still and 
quiet as a funeral assembly. The instruments which should have 
played to the expected dances were sent away ; and thus ended the 
feast at Count Conrad's house, once the abode of mirth. The 
dejected guests disappeared earlier than usual, and the knight 
longed for the solitude of his own chamber, to give himself up to 
his melancholy grief, and to reflect, undisturbed, on the dis- 
appointments of love. He tossed impatiently in his bed, and 
knew not what interpretation to put on his deceived hopes. His 
blood boiled in his veins ; morning came before he had closed 
his eyes, the servants entered and found their lord struggling 
with wild fantasies, and, to all appearance, in a high fever. 
Then the whole house was thrown into confusion, physicians 
ran up and down stairs, wrote prescriptions a yard long, and 
in the apothecaries' shops all the mortars were at work, as if 
they were sounding for matins. But the little herb, Eyeb right, 
which alone softens the longings of love, no physician had 
prescribed; therefore, the sick man abused the restorative balsam, 
and pearl tincture, refused to subject himself to any regimen, and 
desired the physicians no longer to trouble him with their follies, 
but to let the sand gradually cease to now in his hour-glass, with- 
out shaking it with their helping hands. 

Seven days had Count Conrad wasted away in secret sorrow, 
so that the rose faded from his cheeks, the fire of his eyes dis- 
appeared, and life and breath only hovered between his lips, like 
a light morning fog in the valley, which only needs the least 
breath of wind to dissipate it entirely. Miss Matilda had accurate 
knowledge of all that passed in the house ; it was not caprice nor 
prudish affectation, that she had not accepted the invitation ; it 
cost her a hard struggle between head and heart, between reason 
and passion, before she could resolve not to listen to the voice of 
her beloved. Partly she wished to prove the constancy of his 
vehement protestations, partly she felt some hesitation in em- 
ploying the third wish of the musk-apple ; for though she thought 
that, as a bride, a new dress would become her, yet her god- 
mother had enjoined her to use her three wishes prudently. But 
on the day of the feast her heart was very heavy : she sat in a 
corner and wept bitterly. The illness of the knight, of which she 
easily divined the cause, troubled her still more, and when she 
heard the danger he was in she was inconsolable. On the seventh 
day, according to the prognostications of the physicians, life or 
death was to be determined. It is easy to judge that Matilda 
voted for the life of her beloved ; and that she could most pro- 
bably effect this recovery was not unknown to her; only she 
found great difficulty as to the manner in which she should behave. 
Still, among the thousand faculties which love awakens and 



54 



POPULAR TALES. 



discloses, one is always that of invention. When Matilda went, 
according to custom, early in the morning, to the housekeeper, to 
take counsel with her about the affairs of the kitchen, Dame 
Gertrude was so unnerved that she could not fix her thoughts on 
common things, nor attend to the choice of meats ; great tears, 
like droppings from a roof, rolled dow r n her leathern cheeks. "Alas, 
Matilda !" sobbed she, " I shall soon cease to be housekeeper here ; 
our poor master cannot live out the day." This was very mournful 
news ! The maiden thought she should sink with terror ; but she 
recovered courage, and said, " Do not despair for the life of our 
lord, he will not die, but will recover : last night I had a good 
dream." The old woman was a living dream-book; hunted up 
every dream of the servants, whenever she could catch one; 
always explained it so that the fulfilment came to her liking — for 
the most agreeable dreams with her always alluded to quarrels, 
contentions, and scoldings. " Tell thy dream," said she, 6 6 that 
I may explain it." — " It seemed tome," began Matilda, " as if I were 
at home with my dear mother, who took me aside, and taught 
me to cook a broth from nine different kinds of herbs, which 
would cure any sickness, if only three spoonfuls of it are swal- 
lowed. ' Prepare this for thy lord,' said she, ' and he will re- 
cover from that hour.' " Dame Gertrude was much astonished at 
this dream, and abstained this time from her customary inter- 
pretations. " Thy dream is wonderful," said she, " and not acci- 
dental. Prepare thy broth at once, for breakfast ; I will see if 
I can prevail on our lord to taste it." 

Count Conrad lay in silent meditation, faint and powerless ; he 
felt that he was on his last journey, and wished to receive the last 
consolations of the Church ; when Dame Gertrude went in to 
him, drew him away by her voluble tongue from his meditations, 
and tormented him with well-intentioned talkativeness, so that 
he, to get rid of her, promised what she desired. In the mean 
while Matilda prepared her broth, put into it different kitchen 
herbs, and costly spices, and laid in it the diamond ring which the 
knight had given her as a pledge of fidelity, and called the 
servants to take it in. The sick man feared the loud eloquence 
of the housekeeper, which still rang in his ears so loudly, that he 
compelled himself to take a spoonful of the soup. As he touched 
the bottom, he observed a strange substance, which he fished up, 
and found it, to his astonishment, a diamond ring. His eye im- 
mediately shone full of life and youthful fire, the sickliness of his 
appearance was gone, and he emptied the whole cup with a 
decided appetite, to the great joy of Dame Gertrude and the 
expecting servants. All ascribed the extraordinary recovery to 
the soup, for. the knight had not let any of them perceive the 
ring. Then he turned to Dame Gertrude, and said, " Who pre- 
pared this food which has done me so much good, restored my 
strength, and recalled me to life?" The careful old woman 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



55 



wished that the invalid would keep quiet, and not talk so much ; 
she therefore said, " Do not distress yourself, my lord, as to who 
prepared the broth ; it is well for you and for us that it has 
worked the healthful effect which we hoped from it." But the 
knight was not to be put off with this answer; he demanded a 
reply to his question, to which the housekeeper at last responded : 
— that there was a servant in the kitchen, called the little gipsy, 
who was skilful in the knowledge of all herbs and plants, and that 
it was she who had prepared the broth that had made the knight so 
well. " Bring her to me," said the knight, " that I may thank her 
for this panacea of life." — " Hold," answered the housekeeper, 
" her look would disgust you : in form she is like a hooded owl, 
she has a hump on her back, is dressed in dirty clothes, and her 
face and hands are smeared with dirt and soot." — " Do my com- 
mands," said the Count, " and without a moment's delay." Dame 
Gertrude obeyed, called Matilda quickly out of the kitchen, threw a 
cloak over her which she was accustomed to wear at church, and led 
her, thus adorned, to the sick-chamber. The knight commanded 
her to retire, and when he had closed the door he said, " Little 
girl, confess to me freely, how didst thou become possessed of the 
ring which I found in the bowl in which you prepared my break- 
fast ?" — "Noble knight," answered the maiden, modestly and 
respectfully, " I had the ring from you ; you adorned me with it 
on the second evening of the dance, when you swore your love to 
me ; see now, if my form and origin deserve that you should pine 
away and sink into the grave. Your condition grieved me, 
therefore I have no longer delayed to show you your error." 
Count Conrad had not expected such an antidote to love ; for a 
moment he was confounded and silent. But the form of the 
charming dancer soon hovered before his eyes, and he could not 
make it agree with the antitype now before him. He thought, 
that perhaps his passion had been discovered, and that they 
wished to cure him by an innocent deceit; still the true ring 
which he had received back, made him think that the beautiful 
unknown was in some manner connected with the scheme ; then 
he thought he would question the servant, and try to entangle her 
in her talk. "If you are that gentle maiden," said he, "who 
pleased me so much, and to whom I plighted my troth, do not 
doubt that I will truly keep my promise; but beware of deceiving 
me. Can you again take the form which appeared to me two 
successive nights in the dancing-hall ? can vou make vour Dociv as 
slender and even as a young fir-tree ? can you change your dir.^y 
skin like a snake, and show different colours like a chameleon ; so 
shall the word that I spoke when I gave away the ring, be 'yea 
and amen.' But if you cannot perform the conditions of this 
stipulation, I will have you scourged as a mischievous deceiver, 
till you tell me how you became possessed of this ring." Matilda 
siahed ; " Ah, is it only the glitter of the form, noble knight, that 

F3 



56 



POPULAR TALES . 



pleased your eyes I Woe is me ! if time or circumstances should 
destroy these fleeting charms ; if old age bends my slender shape 
and crooks my back ; if my roses and lilies fade, my fine skin 
wrinkles and dries ; if my deceitful figure, in which I now stand 
before you, really belonged to me, what would become of your 
plighted faith?" Knight Conrad wondered at this discourse, 
which seemed too wise and reflecting for a kitchen-maid. " Know," 
was his answer, " beauty commands a man's love, but virtue 
knows how to keep fast the soft bands of love." — " Well," 
answered she, " I go to fulfil your conditions, prepare your heart 
to decide my fate." 

The Knight still wavered between hope and fear of a new 
deception ; he rang for the housekeeper, and commanded her to 
" escort the maiden to her chamber, that she may clothe herself 
neatly ; remain at the door till she comes out — I await you in the 
reception-room." Dame Gertrude took her prisoner with strict 
care, not knowing what her lord's command might mean. In 
going up she said, " Hast thou clothes to adorn thyself? why hast 
thou concealed them from me 1 If thou wantes t any, follow me 
to my chamber, I will lend thee as many as thou needest." 
Hereupon she described her old-fashioned wardrobe (in which she 
had dressed herself for half a century) piece by piece, with eager 
remembrance of former times. Matilda had little need of any, 
she only desired a small piece of soap, and a handful of bran, 
took a washing-basin full of water, went into her chamber and 
fastened the bolt, while Dame Gertrude stood outside the door 
■with great anxiety, expecting what would happen. The knight, 
full of expectation as to the issue of his love adventure, forsook 
his couch, clothed himself in elegant attire, and went into his 
state room, pacing the room with quick, uneven strides. Just 
as the clock on the Augsburg town-hall, and eighteen other 
clocks, told the hour of noon, a train of a silken robe rustled 
through the antechamber, and Miss Matilda entered, with 
hesitation and dignity, adorned as a bride, and beautiful as 
the Goddess of Love when she returned to Paphos from the 
council of the Gods on Mount Olympus. With the rapture of a 
delighted lover, the knight Conrad cried, " Goddess or mortal, 
whoever you maybe, behold me here at your feet, ready to renew 
the vow that I have made you, if you will accept my heart and 
hand." The maiden modestly raised the knight: " Softly, noble 
knight," said she, " do not be in a hurry with your vow ; you see 
me here in my proper form, though still unknown to you : a 
smooth face has betrayed many men. The ring is still in your 
hands." Immediately the knight took it from Ins finger; the 
maiden relinquished her hand to the charming knight, and he 
placed the ring upon her finger. l< You are now my chosen," said 
she ; " I can no longer conceal myself ; I am the daughter of Wacker- 
man Uhlfinger, the stout old knight, whose unhappy fate is, 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. 



57 



without doubt, not unknown to you ; sorrowfully, I escaped from 
the ruin of my father's house, and have in your dwelling, though 
in a mean condition, found shelter and security." Then she 
related to him her history, and did not conceal from him the 
secret of the musk-apple. 

Count Conrad no more remembered that he had been at the 
point of death, but on the following day again invited the guests, 
whom his dejection had previously scared away so easily, 
and when the server served up, and counted around, no extra 
cover was found. Then the knight quitted the order, left the 
court, and solemnized his marriage with great splendour. The 
newly-married couple passed the first year of their union at 
Augsburg, in joy and innocent mirth. Impressed with feelings 
of delightful emotion, the youthful wife, leaning on the bosom of 
her wedded lord, confided to him the happy feelings of her heart, 
which overflowed with joy. "My heart, beloved lord," said 
she once, "in possessing you is at rest ; no other wish remains to 
me; I give up the third wish of my musk-apple; if you have any 
concealed desire in your heart, make it known to me ; I will make 
it mine, and from that hour it shall be accomplished." Count 
Conrad pressed his beloved wife heartily in his arms, and pro- 
tested that no wish remained to him on earth but the continuance 
of their happiness. The musk-apple thus lost all its value in the 
eyes of its possessor, and she only preserved it in thankful 
remembrance of her godmother Nixa. Count Conrad had still a 
mother alive, who lived on her jointure at Schwabeck, whose 
hand the innocent daughter-in-law had a great desire to kiss, 
and to thank her for her valiant son; still the Count, under 
various pretences, declined the journey to his mother; but showed 
an inclination to visit a fief which had fallen to him, and which 
was not far from Wackerman-s ruined castle. Matilda was very 
willing to visit once more the land where she had passed the days 
of her first youth. She sought out the ruins of her father's house, 
wept over the ashes of her parents, went to the Nixa's spring, and 
hoped that her presence would again invite the Nymph to make 
herself visible. Many stones dropped into the spring without the. 
hoped-for effect, even the musk-apple swam like a bubble on the 
water, and she had the trouble of fishing it out for herself. The 
Nymph no more appeared, although another sponsorship was im- 
pending, for Lady Matilda was on the point of presenting her 
husband with a marriage blessing. She gave birth to a son as 
beautiful as Cupid, and the joy of the parents was so great that 
they nearly hugged him to death ; the mother would not put him 
out of her arms, and watched every breath of the innocent little 
angel, although the Count had hired a cunning nurse to take care of 
the little child. But on the third night, when all in the castle lay 
buried in sleep, after the noise and bustle of a feast, the mother 
awoke from a sweet slumber, and when she awoke the baby was 



ON 



POPULAR Tj 



gone from her arms ! Astonished, the terrified Countess cried out. 
"Nurse, where have you laid ray baby?" The nurse answered, 
"Noble lady, the dear little boy is in your arms/' Bed and 
chamber were anxiously searched, but nothing was found except 
some drops of blood on the floor of the chamber. When the 
nurse perceived this, she raised a loud cry. " Oh. God and the 
Saints have pity on us ! the man-wolf has been here and carried 
the child away ! " The mother wept herself pale and thin for the 
loss of her noble boy, and the father was inconsolable. Although 
the knight had not, in reality, a mustard-grain of belief in the 
man-wolf, but treated it as woman's prattle, yet he could in no 
way clear up the mystery. He consoled his sorrowful wife as he 
best could : and she, to please him, compelled herself to assume 
a more cheerful mien. That anodyne of pain, beneficent time, at 
last healed the mother's heart-wound, and the loss was repaired 
by a second son. Boundless was the joy in the palace over the 
beautiful heir ; the Count feasted with great mirth with ail his 
neighbours within a day's journey round, the cup of joy passed 
unceasingly from hand to hand, from the host and guests to the 
door-keeper ; all drank to the health of the new-born. Tne 
apprehensive mother would not have the child out of her sight, 
and watched its sweet sleep as long as her strength permitted ; 
but when at last the demands of nature must be obeyed, she took 
the golden chain from her neck, passed it round the baby's body, 
and fastened the other end to her arm, signed herself and the 
child with the cross, that the man-wolf might have no power nor 
influence over it, and she soon fell into an irresistible slumber. 
When she awoke with the first dawn of morning, oh misery ! the 
sweet boy had disappeared from her arms. In the utmost alarm 
she cried as before, " Nurse, where have you laid my baby V and 
the nurse answered likewise, " Noble lady, the dear little boy is 
in your arms." Immediately she looked for the golden chain 
which she had fastened to her arm. and found that a link had 
been cut through by a sharp steel instrument, and she fainted 
away with terror. The nurse alarmed the house, the servants 
hastened in, full of consternation, and when Count Conrad 
heard what had happened, his heart burned with anger and 
indignation, he drew his knightly sword, intending to cleave the 
nurse's head. " Wicked woman ! " thundered he with furious 
voice, " did I not give you strict orders to remain awake ail night, 
that, if this monster came to rob the sleeping mother, you. by 
your screams, might alarm the house ? Sleep now, indolent one, 
the sleep of death! " The woman fell on her knees before him : 
"Worshipful lord," said she, "by God's mercy, I conjure you 
to grant me some moments, that I may not take the crime which 
mine eyes have seen into the grave with me, and which should 
not have been extorted from me if it were not for the torture." 
The Count was astonished. " What crime," asked he. "have 



THE NYMPH OE THE FOUNTAIN, oi) 

your eyes seen, so black that your tongue refuses to mention it ? 
Freely declare to me, without torture, what is known to yon, like 
a true maiden." — " My lord," sobbed the servant, "what moves 
you to hear your misfortune? It is better that the frightful 
secret should be buried with my corpse in the cold grave." 

But Count Conrad only became more desirous to know the 
secret ; he took the woman aside into a private room, and, over- 
come by threats and promises, she disclosed to him what he had 
been so very desirous to know : — "Your wife," said she, " you must 
know, my lord, is an enchantress ; but she loves you above mea- 
sure, and her love goes so far, that she spares not her own chil- 
dren, thereby/to procure the means of preserving your favour, and 
her beauty unchangeable. In the night, when all were asleep in 
great security, she placed herself as if she also slumbered. I did 
the same, I know not why. Soon she called me by my name, 
but I answered not, but pretended to snore and make a rattling 
in my throat. As she thought that I was fast asleep, she sat 
up in bed, took the baby, pressed it to her bosom, kissed it 
heartily, and whispered these words, w r hich I clearly heard: — 
' Son of my love, be a means to preserve to me thy father's love ; 
go now to thy little brother, thou innocent, that I may prepare 
with nine different herbs and thy little bones a strengthening 
drink, which shall preserve my beauty and thy father's favour.' 
When she had thus said, she drew forth a diamond needle, as sharp 
as a dagger, out of her hair, and pierced the baby to the heart, 
let it bleed a few drops, and, when it no longer struggled, she laid 
it before her, took the musk-apple, muttered some words, and 
when she lifted the lid, a light flame of fire blazed from it, as from 
a pitch-barrel, which consumed the corpse in a few moments ; the 
ashes and little bones she collected carefully into a little box, and 
pushed it under the bedstead. Then she cried with an anxious 
voice, as if she had suddenly awoke from sleep — ' Nurse, where 
have you laid my baby ? ' and I answered, with fear and trem- 
bling, in dread of her enchantments, ' Noble lady, the dear little 
lord is in your arms.' Then she began to behave as if she were 
very sorrowful, and I ran out of the chamber for the purpose of 
calling help. Behold, worshipful lord, these are the details of 
the shameful deed which you have obliged me to disclose to you ; 
I am ready to prove the truth of my report by a red-hot iron bar, 
which I will carry with my naked hands three times up and down 
the castle-yard." 

Count Conrad stood as if petrified ; for a long time he could 
not utter a word. When he had collected himself, he said, " What 
need is there of the fiery ordeal? your words bear the im- 
press of truth ; I feel and believe that all is as you have said : 
keep this frightful secret fast in your heart; tell it to no man, 
not even to the priest when you make confession. I will procure 
for you a letter of pardon from the Bishop of Augsburg, that 



(30 



POPULAR TALES. 



this sin shall not be imputed to you either in this world or in the 
next. I will now go with a dissembling visage to this viper ; take 
care that you, when I embrace her, and pretend to console her 
grief, draw forth the box of bones from under the bed unper- 
ceived, this will be more than proof to me. With a slightly 
clouded forehead, and a somewhat sorrowful look, but still like a 
determined man, he entered his wife's apartment, who received 
her lord with innocent eyes, but with a silent, mournful soul. 
Her face was like an angel's, and this extinguished the rage 
and fury with which his heart burned. The spirit of revenge 
softened into compassion and pity, he pressed the unfortunate 
lady tenderly to his bosom, and she poured tears of heartfelt 
anguish over his garments. He comforted her, talked kindly to 
her, and hastened soon to leave the theatre of cruelty and horror. 
The nurse had in the mean time prepared what she had been 
ordered ; and delivered to the Count, in secret, the horrible re- 
ceptacle of bones. It cost him a severe struggle in his heart 
before he could resolve what he should do with the supposed 
enchantress. At last he was of opinion that he would get rid of 
her without creating noise and wonder. He set off, and rode to 
Augsburg, and gave the steward these orders: — "When the 
Countess goes out of her chamber, after nine days, to bathe as 
usual, have the bath-room well heated, and bolt firmly the doors, 
that she may faint in the bath from the great heat, and may at 
last expire." The steward received this command with heartfelt 
sorrow, for all the servants loved the Countess Matilda, as a 
gentle and amiable mistress ; still he did not dare open his mouth 
against his lord, because he perceived his great earnestness and 
impatience. 

On the ninth day Matilda ordered the bath to be heated ; she 
thought her husband would not remain long in Augsburg, and 
she wished that, on his return, all traces of their misfortune 
should be wiped away. When she entered the bath-room the 
air around her was greatly heated. She wished to drawback, but 
a strong hand pushed her violently into the chamber, and imme- 
diately all the doors were bolted and locked. She cried in vain 
for help ; nobody listened ; the fire was only stirred up hotter, so 
that the stove glowed red-hot, like a potter's oven. At this cir- 
cumstance, the Countess easily guessed what was to happen ; she 
resigned herself to her fate; only the shameful suspicion for 
which she was being punished tormented her soul more than this 
ignominious death. She employed the last moments of recol- 
lection in taking a silver needle out of her hair, and writing these 
words on the white wall of the room: " Farewell, Conrad ; I die 
willingly at thy command; but I die innocent." Then she threw 
herself on a little couch, to begin her death-struggle, but nature 
involuntarily strove, for a little moment of time, to prevent her 
destruction. In the anguish of the stifling heat, the unhappy 



THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN. Oi 

dying one threw herself here and there ; the musk-apple, which 
she always carried about with her, fell to the ground, she picked 
it up immediately, and cried, " Oh ! Godmother Nixa, if it be in 
your power, free me from an ignominious death, and make my 
innocence clear." She hastily took the lid off, there arose from 
the musk-apple a thick mist, which spread itself through the 
whole chamber, and the Countess immediately perceived that 
there arose a coolness, so that she felt no more anguish and 
heat. The cloud of vapour at last collected into a tall figure, and 
the lady Matilda, who now no longer thought of dying, saw, 
•with unspeakable delight, the lovely Nymph before her, the dear 
little baby in her arms, wrapped up in a little chrism-cloth, and 
in her hand the other little boy, in white robes, with rose-coloured 
borders. "Welcome, beloved Matilda," said the Nymph. " Well 
for thee that thou didst not use the third wish of the musk-apple 
so thoughtlessly as thou didst the two first. Here are two 
living witnesses of thine innocence, with which thou wilt triumph 
over the black calumny under which thou wast almost slain. 
The evil star of thy life has now declined to its fall, henceforth 
the musk-apple will not grant any more wishes, because nothing 
now remains for thee to wish more ; but I will explain to thee 
the riddle of thy mournful lot. Know that the mother of thy 
husband is the author of all thy misfortunes. To this proud 
woman her son's marriage was as a poniard stab in her heart ; 
she believed that Count Conrad had disgraced the nobility of his 
house by marrying a kitchen-maid ; she immediately uttered 
curses and execrations against him, and would no longer acknow- 
ledge him as her son. All her thoughts and meditations were 
directed to destroy thee, although the vigilance of thy husband 
always prevented this wicked design. Still she contrived at last 
to deceive him by the hypocritical nurse. By great promises, she 
prevailed on this woman to take thy firstborn son in sleep from 
thy arms, and to throw it, like a dog, into the water. Luckily 
she selected the spring from my grotto for this crime ; I received 
the boy with loving arms, and watched over him as a mother. 
Thus too she confided to me the second son of my beloved Matilda. 
This deceitful nurse was thy accuser ; she persuaded the Count 
that thou wert a magician ; that a salamander flame came out of 
the musk-apple (whose secret thou shouldst have carefully pre- 
served) and destroyed the boy, whose ashes thou preparedst into 
a love-drink. She showed thy husband a small vessel, filled with 
pigeon and chicken bones, which he believed to be the remains of 
his child, and he gave orders to smother thee in the bath during 
his absence. In a few hours thou wilt again lean upon his 
friendly bosom." When the Nymph had thus spoken, she bent 
over the. Countess's face, kissed her forehead, and, without wait- 
ing for an answer, wrapped herself in her thick veil of vapour, 
and vanished away. 



62 



POPULAR TALES. 



The servants of the Count were in the meanwhile busy, to kindle 
again the extinguished fire; it seemed to them as if they heard 
human voices inside, whence they supposed that the Countess was 
still alive. But all their trouble was in vain ; the wood caught as 
little fire as if the stove had been heated with snow-balls. Soon 
Count Conrad rode home, and anxiously asked how it was with 
his wife. The servants informed him, how they had well heated the 
bath, but that the fire was suddenly extinguished; and that 
they believed the Countess was still alive. This very much re- 
joiced his heart; he went to the door, and cried through the key- 
hole, " Dost thou live, Matilda ?" and the Countess recognised her 
husband's voice, and answered, " Beloved lord, I live and my chil- 
dren live also." Enraptured at this speech, the impatient Count 
had the door broken open, because the key was not ready at 
hand, rushed into the bath-room to the feet of his innocent wife, 
bedewed her pure hands with a thousand tears of repentance, 
brought her and her pledges of love, to the joy and delight of the 
whole house, out of the frightful death-chamber back into her 
apartment, and heard from her mouth the whole particulars of 
the shameful slander, and the robbery of the children. Imme- 
diately he gave the command to seize the malicious nurse, and to 
shut her up in the bath-room. The fire in the stove began to 
burn merrily, the flames ascended on high, and speedily this 
devilish woman died a miserable and deserved death. 




( 63 ) 




PETER BLOCK; 

OR, 

THE TREASURE -SEEKER OF THE HARZ. 



S3gN the Tuesday after S. Bartholomew's-day, the same 
year that saw the Emperor Wenceslaus' flight from 
the prison at Prague, the shepherds at Rottenburg, 
according to ancient custom, held their annual festival, 
at which all the country people for several miles 
round were present. After service at the church of S.Wolfgang, 
they adjourned to the sign of the Golden Lamb, where they spent 
the remainder of the day, in quaffing their cups, playing on their 
rustic instruments, and dancing in the open air. 

The younger part of the company had turned homewards ; not 
so, however, the elder shepherds ; they continued over their wine 
till the night was far advanced ; and, the generous liquor having 
loosened their tongues, they began to indulge in lengthy con- 
versation. Some uttered wise predictions as to the weather, on 
which subject, it may truly be said, they were in no wise inferior 
to our modern almanack-makers. Others recounted stories of 
their young days ; how they had defended their flocks from the 
attacks of the wolf, by aid of their faithful companion — the dog ; 
or put to flight the still more terrible were-wolf by devoutly 
crossing themselves, and repeating a prayer to their patron saint. 
Some, again, told how they had been led out of their way, 
through wilds and forests, and had been mocked and deluded by 
demons and spectres. So fearful were these tales, that they 
caused the townsfolk to shudder, and made their hair to stand 
on end with horror. Of these townspeople, no small number 
attended the festivities of the rustic holidays ; and many a trades- 
man and mechanic betook himself on these evenings to the 
public room of the Golden Lamb. 

No one contributed more to the conversation, on the present 
occasion, than the silver-haired Martin, a cheerful old man of eighty, 
who, like the patriarch Jacob, had seen a whole race of shepherds 
descended from himself. When the room was somewhat cleared 
of the company, he called for a cup, by way of farewell before 
retiring ; not displeased, moreover, to find that, in the comparative 
quietness, it would now be in his power to make himself more 
easily heard. 



64 



POPULAR TALES. 



" My good friends," said he, " you have, without doubt, been 
relating wonderful things ; nor have they, I well believe, lost 
anything of their marvels by savouring a little of the wine-cup. 
I could tell you, however, of an affair, which, without embellish- 
ment, will appear still more remarkable than any of the tales you 
have related ; but the night is now far advanced, and I should 
not be able to finish it." 

All were silent, and such was the deep attention of the auditory, 
that you might have fancied the Bishop of Bamburg reading mass. 
When he paused, however, there were voices enough to be heard : 
" Father Martin, let us hear this adventure of thine ; do not 
deprive us of such a pleasure on a holiday-night." Some of the 
townsmen, too, who had been preparing to go, turned back, and 
besought the old man to relate his marvels. These solicitations 
at last induced Martin to yield, and he spoke as follows : — 

" In my young days, I was a destitute orphan-boy, and had to 
beg my bread from door to door ; there was no place I could call 
my home, and I wandered about with my bag from village to 
village. When I grew up to be a lad, I hired myself to a shep- 
herd on the Harz Mountains, with whom I remained three years. 
One evening, in autumn, ten of our sheep were missing, on which 
I was sent off to search for them. Night came on without my 
finding them ; and, being unacquainted with the place, and not 
knowing how to find my way home, I resolved at last to pass the 
night under a tree. Towards midnight the dog began to howl, 
and to crouch close to me : I awoke, and, looking up, I saw, by 
the clear moonlight, a huge figure standing* opposite to me, like a 
tall man, with his body entirely covered with long, shaggy hair. 
He had a beard reaching to his middle, a garland upon his 
head, and an apron of oak-leaves, while, in his right hand, he held 
a fir-tree that had been torn up by the roots. The terrific appari- 
tion motioned with his hand that I should follow him : I stirred 
not from the spot, however, for fear, and stood trembling like an 
aspen-leaf. He thus exclaimed, in a hoarse growling voice : 
•Coward, take courage; I am the Treasure-keeper of the Harz. 
Come with me, and thou shalt find a treasure.' Although my fear 
threw me into a cold perspiration, I at length roused myself, and, 
making a sign of the cross, replied, 6 Avaunt ; I desire none of 
thy treasures ! ' On this, the figure grinned horribly in my face, 
and said, ' Fellow, thou rejectest thy good fortune! continue, 
then, a miserable wretch all thy days.' He then turned away as 
if to depart ; but, again approaching me, said, f Bethink thee 
well, thou foolish man ; I will fill thy wallet, I will fill thy bag 
with a precious burden.' — f It is written,' I returned, - Thou shalt 
not covet : away from me ; I will have no dealings with thee.' 

" As the goblin saw that I was not to be enticed by him, he 
desisted from further importunity, only adding, ■ Thou wilt 
repent this ;' then looking frightfully at me, after a short pause, 



PETER BLOCK. 



65 



he continued, ' Give heed to what I am now about to say, so 
that it may yet avail thee, shouldst thou be wise enough to change 
thy mind. In the Brocken, deep under the earth, is buried an 
immense treasure of gold and precious stones. This treasure I 
have watched for seven hundred years ; but, from this day for- 
ward, it becomes free to be taken by whoever discovers it : — ray 
time is expired. Therefore did I intend to deliver this hoard to 
you ; for, as you have tended your flock on these mountains, I 
have felt kindly disposed towards you.' He then acquainted me 
with the spot where the treasure lay, and described the manner 
of seeking it. 

" 'Proceed,' said he, ' towards S. Andrew's mountain, and 
there inquire for the valley called the Morgenbrodsthal. When 
you arrive at a stream called the Duder, follow its course upwards, 
until you reach a stone bridge, close by a saw-mill. Pass not 
over the bridge, but still proceed onwards, with the stream on 
your right, until you see before you a steep and rugged crag. A 
short distance from this, you will perceive a hollow somewhat 
resembling a grave. Do not be afraid, but clear it out without 
apprehension, although it will be no very easy task : you will per- 
ceive that it has been purposely filled up with earth. Having 
discovered the stone sides of the cavern, you will soon meet with 
a flat stone, built into the wall, and about a yard square. This 
being forced out, you will find yourself in the entrance of the 
vault where the treasure lies hid. Having proceeded a little way, 
you will reach a hall with three doors, two of which are open, but 
the middle one is fast closed with bolt and bar. You must open 
the closed door by means of the spring-root, which you must not 
fail to take along with you; for, without this, the utmost force 
will avail nothing. Fear not, even though the door should fly 
open with a crash of thunder ; only remember to protect thy 
lamp, so that it may not be extinguished. You will probably 
be dazzled by the gold and shining jewels with which the walls 
and pillars of the vault are adorned, yet stretch not out thy hand 
to touch them ; beware of that as you would of sacrilege. In the 
midst- of this cavern stands a large brazen chest ; in it you will 
find enough both of gold and silver, and you may take as much 
as you choose. Moreover, it is in your power to return three 
different times, but not more ; on the fourth you would infallibly 
suffer the chastisement due to your avarice.' When the figure had 
ceased, my dog pricked up his ears and began to bark ; I heard 
the sound of wheels at a distance, and, when I looked round me, 
I perceived that the vision had disappeared." 

The wondrous tale of the old man affected the company in dif- 
ferent ways. Some would treat it very lightly : — " Certainly this 
is a very fine dream, my old friend ! " exclaimed they : some, again, 
gave implicit credence to the story ; while others, more cautious, 
affected to look wise, but kept their opinions to themselves. As 



66 



POPULAR TALES. 



for the worthy -landlord of the Lamb, he very shrewdly remarked 
that the proof of the pudding was in the eating ; that, let them 
dispute as much as they pleased, the question, after all, was, had 
any one been on this pilgrimage, and had he returned with the 
treasures'? Then, addressing the old man, — 

" Well, friend ! let us hear whether, after all, you visited this 
cavern, and found what the spirit promised? or did the mis- 
chievous goblin only deceive you?" 

" Indeed," replied honest Martin, " I cannot accuse him of 
deceiving me, since I never took even so much as a single step to 
seek out the cavern or its treasures. First, I had too much 
regard for my safety to expose myself to the danger of dealing 
with a spirit ; and, besides, I have never been able to find the 
spring-root. I know not where it grows, at what time of the 
year, or what hour of the day, it should be gathered, though I 
have questioned many persons conversant with every kind of 
plant." Here a shepherd, well advanced in years, broke in, and 
addressing himself to the narrator of the story, said, — 

" Neighbour Martin, your secret, I fear, is now somewhat out 
of date. But if you had had your wits about you some forty 
years ago, you certainly had not missed procuring the spring- 
root. I can myself inform you by what means the plant may be 
obtained. The easiest way is to call in the service of a black 
woodpecker. Watch one in the spring season, when it makes its 
nest in a hollow tree, and then, when it flies out to seek food for 
its young ones, drive a wedge of wood into the hole, whence it 
has taken its flight. "When it returns, and perceives that the 
access to its nest is cut off, it will fly round the tree and scream ; 
it will then suddenly direct its flight towards the west. You must 
take care to be provided beforehand with a scarlet mantle, which 
conceal under your garment, and wait until the bird returns with 
the spring-root in its mouth. No sooner will the bird touch the 
wooden plug with this wondrons plant, than it will immediately 
fly out, as a cork does from one of mine host's barrels. Lose no 
time then, but instantly spread the mantle under the tree. Terri- 
fied at the sight, supposing it to be fire, the woodpecker will let 
fall the root. Having obtained possession of the precious plant, 
bind it carefully to a piece of christ- thorn, otherwise it will cer- 
tainly be lost whenever you lay it out of your hand." 

Apart from the social circle of auditors, with no other com- 
panion than the cat, one solitary individual had occupied the land- 
lord's leathern chair, and during the whole evening had observed 
so strict a silence, that he might rather have seemed a brother of 
a Carthusian monastery, than the inmate of an inn on a holiday 
night. This was Master Peter Block, once cook to a worshipful 
magistrate — an honourable employment long since abandoned — 
and who no w occupied a much more private station ; for, during the 
last ten years, Peter had but too quickly descended the step-ladder ; 



PETER BLOCK. 



67 



so that he who had formerly contributed to other men's feasting, 
was now obliged to practice fasting on his own account. In his 
former calling, he had been a man of a merry mood, tickling the 
fancies and the palates of the guests in pretty equal ratio. In 
the noble science of cooking his talent was unrivalled. There 
was no dish or culinary compound in which he did not exhibit the 
utmost skill of a professor. But, unfortunately, our hero would 
needs dress for himself a sauce that requires more of the ingre- 
dient called prudence than any other article in the cookery-book. 
Peter, in short, sought out for himself a helpmate ; and, in evil 
hoar, made choice of one whose unhappy tongue had already 
gained her the ill-will of the whole town. Whoever came in her 
way, be it friend or foe, she was sure to load them with abuse ; 
nay, the very saints in the calendar did not always escape her 
with impunity. Master Block, however, had heard her com- 
mended as a thrifty, notable housewife, and he ventured accord- 
ingly to espouse g this foul-mouthed specimen of the sex denomi- 
nated fair. 

The circumstances of the family soon altered very materially. 
He had given up his situation of cook, and ventured to open a 
tavern, in which new calling, however, he was, in the long run, 
unfortunate. Master Peter had at no time been a proficient in 
arithmetic ; for, of all the rules, the only one in which he suc- 
ceeded was subtraction ; as to addition and multiplication, he 
could comprehend neither ; nor was he much more successful in 
division. It was too great an exertion for him to keep an exact 
account of his money affairs ; while it lasted, neither kitchen nor 
cellar went unprovided ; his friends, too, were always sure of 
meeting with the best cheer, long credit, and open house. On 
the other hand, his kindly, compassionate nature displayed itself 
equally towards those whose only claim consisted in their inabi- 
lity to pay for their lodging and cheer. When his finances were 
exhausted, he borrowed money from the usurers ; and as he went 
on, the more did his debts accumulate. The accommodating 
principle by which, like many other easy, well-disposed people, 
he found it convenient to regulate his conduct, was, that all would 
turn out right at last. But, at the last, however, Master Peter 
found that he had turned all the money out of his pockets, and 
himself out of doors ; for, to the regret of all his good friends 
and boon companions, he was obliged to strike and take down 
his sign. 

Under these unfortunate circumstances, therefore, he was com- 
pelled to become a dependant upon his wife, who set up a small 
flour trade; and, as an ass was an indispensable adjunct to her 
establishment, Peter had to act as substitute for that well-behaved 
animal. Without the least compunction, the dame loaded the 
shoulders of her partner with many a heavy sack of flour, which 
he was obliged to carrv to the mill, although not without 

g 3 



68 



POPULAR TALES. 



groaning under the unaccustomed weight; but even these ser- 
vices did not always obtain the best of recompense, for most 
sparingly did she mete out to him his provender, and not unfre- 
quently did this female vixen let him feel, too, the additional 
weight of her fist, whenever he ventured to complain of the weight 
of the sacks. 

Such conduct afilicted greatly the affectionate nature of his 
excellent daughter, and drew from her in secret many a bitter 
tear. She was an only child, and dear as the apple of his eye to 
her father, who had trained her, from her very childhood, in his 
own ways ; she therefore repaid all his affection with the most 
submissive filial love, and consoled him under all his domestic 
afilictions. The amiable Gertrude supported herself by needle- 
work, especially embroidery, in which she had attained a great 
proficiency. She worked the robes used by priests at mass, altar 
draperies, and those variegated and fancifully-figured cloths, with 
which it was then the fashion to cover tables. Although obliged 
to give her mother a strict account of all her earnings, she never- 
theless sometimes contrived to lay by a trifling sum, which she 
secretly presented to her father, in order that he might occa- 
sionally visit the Golden Lamb, and at least be able to feast now 
and then. Previously to this rustic festival, she had doubled her 
usual savings, and joyfully slipped them into her father's hand 
as he returned one evening from his labours at the mill. This 
kindness on the part of his child touched his very soul, and so 
affected him, that the tears came into his eyes. 

During old Martin's tale of wonder, Peter dismissed every 
other thought, in order to catch it with a ready ear. The farther 
the narrator proceeded, the more eagerly did he listen. At first, 
it was merely curiosity that induced him to listen ; but when he 
heard how the spring-root, the charm which was to give access to 
the treasure, was to be obtained, his imagination was completely 
inflamed. He instantly pictured himself standing before the 
brazen chest, and shovelling the bright gold pieces into his sack, 
and he quickly determined to rest all his hopes of fortune on the 
success of his journey to the Brocken. 

Covetousness and avarice were by no means Peter's failings ; 
as long as his prosperity lasted his money passed lightly through 
his fingers ; the more difficult, therefore, was it for him afterwards 
to bear his indigence with tolerable patience. Whenever, there- 
fore, he indulged in dreams of wealth, it was principally in order 
that he might resign his post of proxy to a beast of burden, and 
that he might no longer be obliged to carry sacks to the mill, but 
have it in his power to bestow a handsome dowry upon his dear 
Gertrude. Even before he had quitted the host's leathern chair, 
he had arranged every detail of his projected plan, except what 
regarded the funds necessary to accomplish it ; and had even fixed 
upon the day for carrying it inro execution. 



PETER BLOCK. 



69 



Peter quitted the Golden Lamb as joyously as if he had ob- 
tained there the golden fleece itself. The only circumstance that 
now disturbed his happiness was, that he had not the magic root 
yet in his possession; and when he considered that the black 
woodpecker did not build its nest in those parts, he became as 
melancholy as if suddenly roused from a delightful fairy vision. 
Recovering himself, however, he struck a light, and, taking pen 
and ink, set down, from beginning to end, the whole process of 
obtaining the treasure, so that not a tittle might escape his 
memory. This being done, he felt his hope somewhat revived, 
trusting that, although he might be obliged to perform the part 
of ass for another winter, the time would yet come when he should 
be able to discontinue his sorrowful pilgrimages to the mill. 



Full fifty times had our good Peter witnessed the return both 
of the stork and the swallow, without paying any attention to it ; 
and as often, too, had he, on Maundy Thursday, served up to his 
friends a mess of cresses and other herbs, and the first produce of 
the spring, without even tasting them himself. But now he would 
not have exchanged for the best Martinmas goose, the first sorry 
cabbage which his frugal housewife dished for him the following 
spring; and no sooner did he observe the first return of the swal- 
low, than he celebrated the wished-for event in a flask of wine, at 
the Golden Lamb. He now laid by every penny of the secret 
money with which he was supplied by his daughter, in order that 
he might have wherewith to reward the first lucky wight who 
should inform him where to find a black woodpecker's nest. He 
even retained a scout or two in his service, whom he sent to 
reconnoitre the forest for this purpose. The wicked fellows would 
sometimes, however, make an April fool of him, by sending him 
many a mile, over hill and dale, where his labour was at length 
rewarded by meeting a raven's or a squirrel's nest in the hollow 
tree to which he had been directed ; and, if he pretended to be 
angry at this waggery, they would laugh in his face, and run off. 
At length, one of these scouts, less knavish as well as more for- 
tunate than the rest, having actually met with a black woodpecker 
that had pitched its nest on an old decayed tree, arrived post haste 
with the important news. Our anxious ornithologist instantly 
flew off, as swiftly as if transformed into a bird himself, to ascer- 
tain the correctness of the report. His guide conducted him to a 
tree, where he saw a bird fly to and fro, which seemed to have its 
nest there; yet the black woodpecker, not belonging to any of 
those genera of birds which culinary ornithologists study, and 
being also less sociable in its nature than either the sparrow or 
swallow, and less familiar to him than either the capon or goose, 
he was doubtful how far the information was correct ; for, to tell 
the truth, he was quite as well acquainted with the phoenix itself 



70 



POPULAR TALES. 



as with the black woodpecker. Fortunately, a fowler, who was 
then passing, extricated him from his perplexity, and gave a deci- 
sion on the point, which fully satisfied our bird-hunter. 

When it appeared to him to be full season to set about his 
great work, he began by hunting out a red cloak f unfortunately, 
but a single article of the kind was to be found in the whole 
town, and this was in the possession of a person to whom 
people are usually somewhat reluctant in applying — namely, that 
public functionary the executioner. It cost him no little exertion 
to overcome his scruples; nevertheless, the urgency of the case 
compelled him. Provided then with this indispensable part of his 
apparatus, our friend set out to execute strictly, according to the 
prescribed formula, the ceremony which was to put him in pos- 
session of the mystic plant. All proceeded exactly as had been 
predicted ; and, when the woodpecker came back with the root in 
its mouth, Peter suddenly advanced from behind the tree, and 
performed his manoeuvre with such rapidity and dexterity, that, 
in its terror at sight of the name-coloured mantle, the bird let fall 
the root, which he immediately seized, and wrapped up in a bunch 
of christ-thorn ; and then proceeded homewards as overjoyed as 
if he had been already in possession of the wished-for treasure. 

His travelling equipage was soon put in readiness, being only 
a sturdy staff, and a large and stout bag. It happened fortunately 
that, on the day fixed for his emigration, both Dame Use and 
Gertrude were gone to a convent of Ursulines, to see a nun take 
the veil ; Peter availed himself of this opportunity to desert his 
post, he having been placed sentinel during the absence of the 
female part of the garrison. 

Just as he was about to bestow a parting look on his house- 
hold deities, it occurred to him that it would not be at all im- 
prudent were he first of all to make a preparatory trial of his 
talisman, in order to satisfy himself of its efficacy. His worthy 
dame had in her chamber a cabinet built into the wall, in which 
shrine she kept certain golden relics, most religiously guarded 
under seven locks, the keys of which she constantly wore about 
her person by way of an amulet. Not having been allowed to 
hold a committee of inquiry on the state of his wife's financial 
arrangements, Peter was altogether ignorant of these private 
funds, although he had some suspicion that a secret hoard existed 
somewhere : as soon, therefore, as this cabinet met his eye, his 
heart acted the part of a divining rod. With a bosom throbbing 
with anxious expectation for the success of the experiment he 
was about to make, he took out the root, and touched the door 
of the shrine. To his rapturous astonishment the seven locks 
immediately unbolted, and the door flew open with a crash, when 
•^here was displayed to his greedy gaze the store of bright seducing* 
reo f a pmon, from whose snare his worthy partner took such pains 
upontE. ire ^ ^ rst? ^ e narc ^y knew whether to be more 



PETER BLOCK. 



71 



delighted at the proved efficacy of the magic root, or at the 
treasure which he had discovered, but stood himself rooted to the 
spot, as if the secret spell had transformed him to a statue. At 
length, he bethought himself in earnest of his intended pilgrimage, 
and, being luckily furnished with this treasure for his journey, 
he departed on his expedition of discovery, in the highest possible 
spirits. 

" On their return, the females greatly wondered to find the house 
shut up, and the trusty sentinel nowhere to be found. To all 
their knocking and calling no reply was returned except by the 
mewing of a cat. Not being provided with so efficacious a key 
as the spring-root, the dame was obliged to have recourse to 
commoner means, and to apply to a locksmith. While the smith 
was employed in opening the door, the dame was equally busied in 
preparing sundry sharp epithets with which she intended to salute 
her unfortunate husband, whom she deemed to be sleeping at his 
post ; but, alas ! on opening the door, no sleeper was to be found. 

Midday, evening, and midnight came in succession : still they 
brought not Peter Block. The business now grew serious, and 
mother and daughter held a solemn council as to the causes of 
this sudden absconding. The strangest conjectures were made; 
and, as that gloomy hour naturally suggested more alarming and 
mournful ideas, even Dame Use felt some compunctious visitings 
of conscience. " Alas," exclaimed she, wringing her hands, " I fear, 
Gertrude, thy father has come to an untimely end." All the 
ditches, and ponds, not forgetting the milldam, were scrutinized, 
and still no trace whatever of the lost sheep. So that, at length, 
the good dame resigned herself to her widowed state, and began 
to look out for a successor to Master Peter in his asinine duties, 
and to purchase a four-footed beast of burden to replace the 
biped. Having met with one to her satisfaction, and settled the 
price, she went to draw the sum upon her treasury, and for this 
purpose unlocked its well-secured door. But what could equal 
her horror at perceiving the dreary scene it displayed ! For some 
minutes did she stand as in a mute trance ; at length the dreadful 
conviction flashed upon her mind. Of what nature were the ex- 
clamations and apostrophes that now rolled in full torrent from 
her tongue, it is easy to divine. 

About a month after this domestic catastrophe, a knock at the 
door announced some one's arrival : Dame Use hastened to open 
it in the expectation of a customer, when there entered a young 
man, apparently a person of some consequence and of pre- 
possessing address ; his attire was that of a country gentleman. 
The youth expressed his joy at seeing her so well, and inquired 
kindly after her daughter, although the dame could not remember 
to have seen him before. She found the visit, however, intended 
rather for Gertrude than herself; still she invited the stranger 
in, and having offered him a seat, inquired his business, With a 



72 



POPULAR TALES. 



mysterious air he requested permission to speak with the fair 
needle- woman of whose work report spoke so high, as he had a 
commission to deliver to her. Dame Use had certain shrewd 
conjectures as to what this commission might be: yet, as the 
interview would be in her own presence, she summoned the in- 
dustrious maiden from her task. On perceiving the visitor, the 
modest Gertrude blushed, and bent her eyes on the ground. 
Familiarly taking her hand, the youth cast on her a gaze of ten- 
derness that by no means dissipated her confusion : nevertheless, 
anticipating his salutation, she exclaimed, "Ah Frederic! how 
came you here ? I deemed that you were now a hundred miles 
from hence. You know my sentiments, and yet you are returned 
to disturb me again." — "No, dear Gertrude, rather I am come 
to ensure the happiness of us both. My condition is now altered, 
and I am no longer the poor youth I once was. A wealthy rela- 
tion lately died and left me all his ample possessions ; I need not 
therefore any longer anticipate your mother's opposition. That I 
love thee I know full well : that thou lovest me, I venture to hope." 

During this speech the maiden's blue eyes assumed a livelier 
expression, and, at the last sentence, her beautiful mouth dis- 
played a faint smile ; at the same time she stole a side glance at 
her mother, to ascertain what were her thoughts on the subject. 
She seemed wrapt in thought, so great was her astonishment to 
discover that the bashful girl had been carrying on a love affair 
without her having the least suspicion of it. The maiden never 
went abroad, save accompanied by herself ; while, at* home, under 
her Argus eye, there was no opportunity ; and the good dame 
was perfectly satisfied that not the most scheming gallant would 
be able to gain access to Gertrude. The event, however, proved 
the contrary; and Dame Use now learnt that the heart of a 
daughter, though so well guarded by her caution and experience, 
was no safer than a hoard of gold secured by seven locks. 

Before she could finish her mental comments on this strange 
discovery, the suitor produced the most satisfactory authority for 
his boldness, by spreading out on the table a heap of sparkling- 
gold pieces, whose brilliancy so dazzled the vision, both corporeal 
and intellectual, of the discreet matron, that she could no longer 
see either the lovers themselves, or the harm they had committed. 
Gertrude was now quite relieved from the apprehension of wit- 
nessing her lover exorcised as an unclean spirit, and doomed to 
repass the threshold. The good wife considered that beauty is 
an article not greatly improved by keeping; that, therefore, for 
such fading ware, it is better to take the first good customer that 
offers. She opined also that a marriageable daughter was to the 
full as safe under a husband's guardianship as her own. She 
had therefore already prepared her maternal consent, fit to be 
produced as soon as the suitor should solicit it: and very readily 
gave her yea and amen to the proposals of the wealthy wooer. 



PETER BLOCK 



The treaty of marriage was quickly arranged. On being ac- 
cepted as such, the joyous bridegroom, sweeping half the gold 
into his hat, threw it into the lap of the bride, as her marriage 
portion; the other half he as liberally scattered in a golden 
shower into the bosom of the greedy matron, whose dry counte- 
nance instantly acknowledged its influence. 

The wedding-day was now fixed, and half the town received 
invitations to the feast, which was to be celebrated in the most 
spacious apartment of the Golden Lamb. As Gertrude was put- 
ting on her bridal wreath, she could not help saying, " This wreath 
would delight me, indeed, were but my good father here to conduct 
me to church. Would to Heaven that he were here with us once 
again ! While we now enjoy all the blessings of Providence, what 
may he not be suffering ; — if indeed he is still alive ?" Even Dame 
Use could not now help expressing some regret, although some of 
it might probably arise from the want she experienced of having 
some one on whom to vent her spleen. 

The eve of the great day had now arrived, when some one 
stopped before the house with a wheelbarrow, and knocked at 
the door. The bride opened the window to inquire what the 
stranger wanted, and, to her surprise, discovered that it was even 
her father himself! 

All now was tumultuous joy : Gertrude rushed down and threw 
herself upon his neck, and even Dame Use reached out her hand 
in token of forgiveness of the theft he had committed. At length 
the bridegroom saluted him in his turn, while both mother and 
daughter expatiated at the same time on his merits, as a suitor ; 
for Master Peter seemed to scrutinize his person with an eye of 
eager inquiry. No sooner, however, was he informed of the pre- 
tensions of the gallant, and the manner in which he had acquired 
his right to such intimate hospitality, than he appeared to be 
perfectly satisfied with his future son-in-law, and was soon as 
familiar with him as though he had long been acquainted with 
him. After having first brought him some refreshment, the 
dame expressed her curiosity to hear his adventures, and all that 
had happened to him in his travels. 

" I have travelled far and wide, "replied he, " and at length am be- 
come a dealer in hardware. All my wealth however consists in this 
cask of nails, of which I intend to make a present to the young folks 
here, to begin housekeeping with." Mother Use now vented 
herself in so many reproaches, that the bridegroom, little pleased 
at this specimen of female eloquence, was obliged to interfere, 
assuring her tha,t he was well satisfied with the offer. 

Peace being restored, Gertrude requested that her father might 
conduct her the following morning to the church; accordingly 
Master Peter appeared dressed out like a burgomaster, in honour 
of the ceremony, which was celebrated with no ordinary splendour. 
Soon after this happy event, the young couple set up a separate 



n 



POPULAR TALES, 



establishment, the bridegroom having purchased a noble mansion, 
where he resided in the style of an opulent citizen. Peter, in the 
meanwhile, set himself clown at his ease, which it was believed 
the liberality of his newly-made son enabled him to do, no one 
suspecting that the cask of nails was his real treasure. We must 
now go back and recount our hero's adventures. 

He had, totally unknown to any one, accomplished his journey 
to the Blocksberg with the greatest success, although certainly 
not altogether with the celerity with which the wizards ride 
thither on W alpurgis night ; his manner of travelling, however, 
was quite as safe, and certainly quite as pleasant. He visited 
each house with a sign attached to it with as much punctuality as 
if he had been employed in taking a census of all houses of enter- 
tainment, and in ascertaining that their cellars were well stocked, 
and their larders well furnished. 

But, at length, the mountains of the Harz appeared in the blue 
distant landscape, and. on the near approach to the scene of action, 
he heroically braced liimself up for the important enterprise. 

Until he began to ascend the Brocken his nose had served him 
as a faithful compass, but he now found himself in a latitude in 
which this magnet no longer acted with effect. He wandered in 
various directions, yet no one could inform him where the Mor- 
genbrod Valley was situated. At length, he got, by chance, 
into the right track ; discovered S. Andrew's Mount, and the little 
stream, and last of all, the cave. He entered; the spring-root 
performed its office; he found the chest and the treasure, and 
filled his sack with as much gold as he could carry ; enough 
to make him independent for the remainder of his days, and 
to enable him to bestow a handsome dovvry on his dear Ger- 
trude. 

When he again beheld the light of day on Ms return from the 
cave, he felt like a mariner who, just escaped from shipwreck, has 
been combating in the midst of the watery element with all the 
horrors of death, and now again presses once more the firm earth as 
he exultingly scales the cliff. Notwithstanding the assurances which 
he had received of perfect security, it was not without certain appre- 
hensions of mischief from the spirit of the mine, that he performed 
his subterraneous journey ; he feared lest the stern guardian of 
the treasure should appear in some terrific form, and either throw 
him into a mortal dread, or even plunder him of the rich fruit of 
his daring enterprise. Everything, however, succeeded to his 
wish ; he neither saw nor heard any evil spirit ; only the iron 
door closed behind him with an awful sound, as soon as he set 
his foot out of the vaulted chamber. In his hurry, the alarmed 
treasure-seeker forgot his talisman, the spring-root, which he had 
laid out of his hand when occupied in scraping up the gold, on 
which account it was impossible for him to return for another 
freight; yet this circumstance did not cause him much affliction 



1 




PETER BLOCK. 



as his desires were by no means immoderate, and as be bad helped 
bimself, on this occasion, pretty liberally. 

Peter now took bis departure, considering bow be should best 
secure the prize be bad obtained, and live comfortably upon it at 
home, without exciting idle curiosity or malignant suspicion. It 
was also very desirable that bis shrew of a wife should know 
nothing of the treasure of the Harz king, else be feared that she 
would never desist from harassing him until be bad surrendered 
up to her the fruit of his toils. She should, therefore, partake of 
the stream, but remain quite ignorant of its source. The first 
point was easily accompbshed, the other caused him to belabour 
his brains greatly without determining anything. Having 
securely packed them up, he transported bis riches to the nearest 
village : here he purchased a wheelbarrow, and ordered a cooper 
to make him a tub with a double bottom ; in the centre of this 
he deposited his treasure, filling up the false bottom at either end 
with nails. With this load he returned home very leisurely ; and, 
as he was in no great hurry to arrive there, he tarried at every 
hospitable tavern, desiring the obsequious master to set before 
him of the best. 

As he approached towards Ellricb, he was joined by a young 
man of smart appearance, but whose countenance was marked 
with grief. Our merry pilgrim struck by the stranger's appear- 
ance inquired of him, " Young sir, whither art thou bound ?" To 
which the other replied with a sigh, " I am journeying through 
the wide world, my good father, or perhaps, out of the world — ■ 
anywhere, in short, where my feet carry me." 

" And wherefore should it be out of the world?" kindly asked 
the compassionate Peter. " What has the world done to offend 
thee so grievously '?" 

" To me the world has done nothing, neither have I done aught 
amiss to the world, and yet, methinks, we do not agree well 
together." 

Our good-natured traveller of the wheelbarrow, who, when 
things went well with himself, always delighted in seeing others 
in equally good spirits, exerted himself to cheer the desponding 
youth ; but finding, at length, that his powers of eloquence were 
of no avail, he suspected that his gloomy mood might be occa- 
sioned chiefly by a vacancy in the region of the stomach, and 
that it was that organ, not either the heart or head of the patient, 
that was affected. He accordingly invited him to enter an inn, 
promising not to call upon him for his share of the reckoning; a 
proposal which his melancholy companion did not refuse. They 
here found a mirthful set of revellers, in whose society Master 
Peter soon found himself quite in his element ; and, by degrees, 
waxed so full of joyous glee, and so liberal withal, that he insisted 
that no one but bimself should have the honour of discharging 
the landlord's bill. This proposition tended bv no means to 

H 



70 



POPULAR TALES. 



throw a damp upon these choice spirits ; on the contrary, they in 
return became most liberal of jests and repartees, so that it was 
doubtful whether the number of good things that went into their 
mouths was not exceeded by that of those which proceeded out 
of them. Peter's young companion was the only one present 
who seemed insensible to the wit and gaiety round him ; he sat in 
a corner of the room, with his eyes fixed on the floor, so coy 
too did he appear with his glass that he but rarely saluted it with 
his lips, and even then he did it in most maidenly guise. 

Perceiving him so inaccessible to all social mirth, it now oc- 
curred to the good Peter that some heavy affliction, which was 
gnawing at his heart, was the real cause of the poor youth's 
despondency. His curiosity therefore became equally excited 
with his compassion. 

" My good lad," inquired he the following morning, " what is 
it that disturbs thee ,so greatly ? Acquaint me with the cause of 
thy uneasiness. " 

"Alas, my worthy father," returned the youth, "what can it 
avail me, should I disclose the cause of my sorrow 1 you can serve 
me neither by your pity nor your advice." 

" Who knows how that may be? the old proverb says : Comfort 
travelleth with no outrider." Peter was now so urgent with him 
to disclose the cause of his disquietude, that the cheerless gallant 
was at length fain to comply. 

" It is no trifle, no boyish misfortune," said he, "that causes 
my distress, but the calamitous destiny of virtuous affection. 
I am attached to an amiable pious girl in the town of Rotten- 
burg, who some time since accepted me as her suitor; but her 
mother, who is a very dragon for fierceness and cunning, finding 
that I was not so rich as she imagined, forbade me access to the 
house. After many unsuccessful attempts, I have at last resigned 
all hope of again beholding the lovely maiden. I have quitted the 
town, and am now wandering about the country in the hope that 
my grief may speedily devour my heart." 

Our hero listened very attentively to his companion's narrative, 
and already began to perceive where the wind lay. 

" Your history," said he, "is a strange one enough; there is 
one point, however, which I would ask you — you do not speak 
of the father of your mistress—why did you not address yourself 
to him ? He would hardly have rejected such an honest suitor for 
his daughter as thou appearest to be." 

" Ah ! " replied Frederic, little weening whom he was now 
speaking to, " the father is nought ; — he is an idle fellow, that 
Peter Block, who has left his wife and child, nor does any one. 
know what has become of him. Yet I do not blame the poor 
wight for having run off from such a cross-grained vixen as his 
wife is — but, then, to desert his sweet child ! — she who is so mild, 
and meekly tempered, and who, even now, always takes his part, 



PETER BLOCK. 



77 



and still speaks of him with the kindest affection ! — were he here, 
I could pluck his beard for him." 

At hearing this unexpected eulogium upon himself, Master 
Peter redoubled his attention, and was surprised to learn how 
minutely his companion was acquainted with all his family secrets ; 
without, however, being offended at the indignation expressed 
against him. He thought, on the contrary, that Frederic would 
serve his designs most admirably; that he could make him the 
depository of his wealth, so as thereby to avoid all inquisitive 
curiosity as to the sudden change in his affairs, and, at the same 
time, conceal his treasure from the greediness of his wife. " My 
good friend," said he, " show me thy hand, and let me see what 
luck thy stars destine for thee." 

" What should they forbode, save evil ?" returned the hopeless 
lover. 

Nevertheless, the pretended dealer in chiromancy would not be 
so put off; and as his companion did not care, for such a trifle, to 
offend one who had treated him so generously, he reached out his 
hand to him. Mustering up a look of profound sagacity, Master 
Peter considered all the lines very attentively, shook his head 
occasionally in the mean while, and, after he had carried on the 
game for a sufficient time, said, " Friend ! he who has luck has 
also the bride ! To-morrow, as soon as the sun rises, hie thee 
with all speed to Rottenburg. The maiden is faithful, and well- 
inclined towards thee, nor will she fail to receive thee with affec- 
tion. A rich inheritance will shortly fall to thee, of which thou 
little dreamest; and thou wilt then have wherewith to support a 
wife handsomely ! " 

" Comrade," returned the youth, supposing that the prophet 
was making himself merry at his expense, " it ill becomes you to 
jest with the unfortunate. Seek some one on whom you can play 
your tricks, and leave me in peace." 

" Nay, my good friend, I am not one that would deceive you, 
or amuse myself at your cost; on the contrary, I engage to 
accomplish my predictions to the letter. To convince you of it, 
I will now pay you as much of the said bequest as you choose to 
demand. Follow me into my chamber, and I will convince you 
of the truth of my words by the most satisfactory evidence." 

At hearing his friend, the dealer in iron, speak of his gold, in a 
tone of such confidence, the youth's cheek burned with the glow 
of joy and sudden astonishment ; nor did he know whether he 
was dreaming or awake, when, following his mysterious com- 
panion, he beheld him, after having secured the door, display the 
secret contents of his cask, — a golden yolk within an iron shell. 

Master Peter now discovered himself to the lover of Gertrude, 
and confided to him the mystery of the treasure, and also his 
intention of letting him support the character of a wealthy suitor, 
while he, on the contrary, would enjoy himself more snugly. 



78 



POPULAR TALES. 



The deep melancholy of the youth now altogether disappeared ; 
he could find no words to express his gratitude for being thus 
suddenly rendered the most happy of all mortals. The following 
morning both the travellers set out for Ellrich, where the young 
one equipped himself in all the bravery of a noble gallant. Master 
Peter paid him in advance a considerable portion of the promised 
inheritance, and agreed with him that he should privately let him 
know of the success of his undertaking, in order that he might 
despatch a load of costly furniture, befitting the station and cha- 
racter he now had to support. At their parting with each other, 
the presumptive father-in-law made the youth a present of a 
piece of advice : " Take good heed to thy tongue, and disclose 
our secret to no one, save to the discreet Gertrude, when she 
becomes thy bride." 

The sequel of the story the reader already knows. 

Master Peter now enjoyed the golden fruit of his trip to the 
Harz Mountain, yet wisely forbore to entertain the public with 
any description of it, and possessed so much wealth that he hardly 
knew its amount. Frederic, however, was supposed to be the 
source of this sudden prosperity ; and, as honour follows quick 
upon riches, he soon attained the highest dignities which the 
town of Rottenburg could bestow. And ever since it has become 
a common proverb, when the people of Rottenburg wish to de- 
scribe a wealthy person, to sav, " He is as rich as the son-in-law 
of Peter Block/ 5 



( 79 ) 



THE THREE SISTERS, 



CHAPTER I. 

^V^j*gp^ VERY wealthy Count squandered away all his riches 
and possessions. He lived like a king, and kept 
^l?lltll?v °P en table every day; whoever appeared at his 
castle, whether knight or squire, was richly feasted 
SM4f|%^^! f or three days, and all his guests went away 
rejoicing. His court swarmed with pages in gold embroidery, 
running footmen, and lackeys in handsome livery, and, in his 
stalls, fed countless horses and hounds. Through this lavish 
expenditure, his treasures were exhausted. He mortgaged one 
city after another, sold his jewels and plate, dismissed his ser- 
vants, and shot his hounds ; nothing remained to him of his entire 
property, but an old castle in a forest, a virtuous wife, and three 
wondrously beautiful daughters. 

In this castle he dwelt, forsaken by all the world ; the Countess 
and her daughters themselves attended to the culinary depart- 
ment ; but, not being versed in gastronomy, they could only boil 
potatoes. These frugal repasts pleased the old Count so little, 
that he became morose and peevish, and stormed and scolded 
through the wide forsaken halls, till the dismantled walls re- 
echoed these outbursts of ill-humour. 

One fine summer's morning, he seized his hunting-spear in a 
passion, and hastened to the forest, to shoot a buck, that he 
might, for once, have a savoury meal. This forest was said to be an 
unlucky spot; many travellers had been led astray in it, and many 
(either strangled by demons or devoured by wild beasts) had never 
returned. The Count feared not ; he strode vigorously over hill 
and dale, and scrambled through bushes and thickets, without 
meeting with any game. Growing weary, he sat down under an 
oak, to make his dinner off some boiled potatoes and a little salt, 
the sole contents of his wallet. By chance he raised his eyes, and 
behold! a savage bear was approaching. The poor Count was 
horribly frightened at the sight ; he could not escape by flight, 
and he was not armed for an encounter with a Bear. He seized 
his spear to defend himself as well as he could. The monster 
drew near; suddenly it stopped, and growled forth distinctly these 
words : " Robber ! plunclerest thou my honey-tree ? — Thou shalt 
•expiate the crime with thy life ! " — " Ah ! " supplicated the 

H 3 



80 



POPULAR TALES. 



Count, " ah ! eat me not, my lord Bear, I sought not your honey, 
I am an honest knight. If you have an appetite, deign to put up 
with my homely fare, and be my guest." Hereupon he dished up 
all the potatoes in his hunting-cap, and presented them to the 
bear. Bruin, however, despised the Count's fare, and growled 
surlily : " Wretch ! thou savest not thy life at this price, promise 
me instantly thy daughter Wulfilda in marriage ; if not, I eat thee 
alive ! " In his distress of mind the Count would have promised 
all his three daughters, and his wife to boot, to the enamoured 
bear, had he demanded them ; since necessity knows no law. 
" She shall be yours, my lord Bear," said the Count, who began 
to recover himself; but, he added artfully, " on condition that, in 
conformity with the established etiquette of the land, you come in 
person to fetch the bride home." — " Agreed!" growled the bear; 
" shake hands," and he offered his shaggy paw ; " in seven days 
I will redeem the bride with a hundred weight of gold, and lead 
the fair one home." — " Agreed," replied the Count ; " few words 
to the bargain!" Thereupon they parted in peace; the bear 
trotted back to his den, and the Count, who did not linger in the 
fearful forest, arrived by moonlight at his castle, wearied and 
dispirited. 

It is easy to comprehend, that a bear which can talk and act 
reasonably like a man, cannot be an ordinary, but an enchanted 
animal. This the Count perceived ; he hoped therefore to baffle 
his shaggy son-in-law through craft, and so to fortify himself in 
his strong castle, that the bear should find it impossible to enter, 
when he came on the appointed day to fetch away the bride. 
Even though the gifts of speech and reason be granted to an 
enchanted bear, reasoned he, he is still a bear, and has, in all 
other respects, the nature of an ordinary individual of that species. 
He will not certainly be able to fly like a bird, nor to enter a 
locked door through the keyhole, like a spirit, nor to glide through 
the eye of a needle. The following day he informed his wife and 
daughters of his adventure in the wood. Miss Wulfilda swooned 
with terror, when she heard that she was destined to espouse a 
grisly bear, the mother wrung her hands and wept aloud, and 
the sisters were dismayed and trembled with grief and horror. 
The papa, however, went forth to reconnoitre the walls and fosses 
of the castle, examined the locks and bolts of the iron door, drew 
up the drawbridge, and provided against all access ; ascended then 
to the watch-tower, where he found, under the battlements, a 
small chamber, strongly walled around, and there he immured 
the maiden, who ceased not to weep with her eyes of heavenly 
blue, or to tear her silky flaxen hair. 

Six days had elapsed, and the seventh was breaking, when great 
noises were heard proceeding from the wood, as though a large 
army were marching through it : the cracking of whips, the blasts 
of horns,, the prancing of horses, the rumbling of wheels. A splendid 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



81 



state-carriage with outriders drove over the plain to the castle 
gate. All the bolts fell back, the door burst open, the draw- 
bridge fell, a young prince alighted from the carriage, handsome as 
the day, and clothed in velvet embroidered with silver. He wore 
a gold chain, looped three times round his neck, so long that a 
man might stand upright in it ; his hat was surrounded by a 
wreath of pearls and diamonds, which dazzled all eyes, and a 
dukedom would not purchase the clasp which fastened the 
ortrich-feather. Swift as the whirlwind he ascended the turret 
stairs, and, in another instant, the affrighted bride trembled in 
his arms below. 

The noise awakened the Count from his morning slumbers ; he 
opened the window of his chamber, and when he perceived the 
carriage and horses, and the horsemen in the courtyard, and his 
daughter in the arms of a stranger, who was assisting her to 
enter the carriage, and when the cavalcade issued from the castle 
gates, his heart smote him, and he cried in great grief, " Adieu, 
my daughter ! Depart thou bear's bride I" Wulfilda recognised 
her father's voice, waved her white handkerchief from the window 
of the bridal carriage, and thus gave the signal of farewell. 

The parents were startled at the loss of their daughter, and 
stared at one another in mute astonishment. The mamma would 
not, however, trust her eyes, but considered the elopement the 
work of magic or of the devil; she seized a bunch of keys, ran 
to the turret and opened the cell, but she found neither her 
daughter nor her effects ; but there lay, on a small table, a silver 
key, which she took, and, looking by chance through the latticed 
window, she perceived, in the distance, a whirlwind of dust 
towards the east, and heard the huzzas and the rejoicings of the 
bridal party, who were now entering the wood. Much distressed, 
she descended from the tower, put on mourning, heaped ashes on 
her head, and wept for three days, in company with her husband 
and her remaining daughters. On the fourth day the Count 
quitted the chamber of mourning to breathe the fresh air, and, 
in passing through the courtyard, he found a handsome chest of 
ebony, well secured and difficult to lift. He easily guessed the 
contents ; the Countess gave him the key, he opened it, and found 
a hundred weight of gold, pure doubloons, all of one coinage. 
Delighted at this acquisition, he forgot all his sorrow, bought 
horses, falcons, and handsome clothes for his wife and lovely 
daughters, hired servants, and began again to feast and make 
merry, till the last doubloon disappeared from his chest. Then 
he plunged into debt, and the creditors came in swarms, seized all 
the contents of the castle, and left him nothing but an old falcon. 
The Countess and her daughters again boiled potatoes ; and he, 
full of chagrin and ennui, daily pursued his hawking in the 
fields. One day he threw up his falcon, which rose high in the 
air, and would not allow itself to be enticed back to his hand. The 



£2 



POPULAR TALES. 



Count followed its flight, as Trell as he could, over the broad 
plain. The bird directed its flight towards the terrible forest, 
which the Count was not reckless enough to enter, and, therefore, 
gave up his favourite amusement for lost. Suddenly, a vigorous 
eagle mounted from the forest and pursued the falcon, which no 
sooner perceived its powerful foe, than it flew back, with the 
speed of an arrow, to seek protection from its master. The 
eagle, however, shot down through the air, fastened one of its 
powerful claws in the shoulder of the Count, and with the other 
crushed the faithful falcon. The astonished Count sought to free 
himself with his spear from his feathered antagonist, beating and 
E rabbing the monster. But the eagle seized the weapon, broke it 
like a reed, and with a loud voice screamed these words into his 
ear : " Rash man, wherefore disturbest thou my aerial kingdom 
With thy hawking? Thou shalt expiate the crime with thy life !" 
From this speech of the bird the Count soon understood what kind 
of adventure he had to expect. He took courage and spoke : 
" Softly, my lord Eagle, softly! what have I done to you? My 
falcon has paid the penalty of its crime, that I will leave to you, 
to appease your appetite/' — " No," continued the eagle, " I thirst 
to-day after the blood of man, and thou appearest to me a fat 
morsel."- — " Pardon, my lord Eagle," screamed the Count in 
anguish, " ask from me what you will and I will give it yon, only 
Spare my life." — " Well," replied the murderous bird, " I will 
keep thee to thy word ; — thou hast two lovely daughters, and I 
want a wife; promise me thy Adelheid in marriage, and I will allow 
thee to depart in peace, and will redeem her with two wedges of 
gold, each weighing a hundred weight ; in seven weeks I will fetch 
the fair one home." Thus speaking, the eagle soared aloft, and 
was lost in the clouds. — Necessity makes all things easy. When 
the father saw that the sale of his daughters was so thriving, he 
grieved the less at losing them. This time he returned home 
cheerfully, and carefully concealed his adventure ; partly to avoid 
the reproaches which he dreaded from his wife, and partly to 
avoid distressing his beloved daughter before there was any 
necessity for it. He lamented apparently only for the lost falcon, 
which he pretended had flown away. Miss Adelheid was un- 
equalled in spinning ; she was also a dexterous weaver, and at 
the time we are speaking of she had just taken out of the loom 
a web of costly Linen, as fine as cambric, which she bleached on 
a plot of grass not far from the castle. Six weeks and six days 
elapsed, and the lovely weaver had no suspicion of her destiny, 
although her father, who became somewhat sad as the day fixed 
by the eagle for his nuptials approached, gave her many covert 
hints ; sometimes relating a remarkable dream, sometimes making 
Wulfilda, who was almost forgotten, the theme of conversation. 
Adelheid, who was of a frank and joyous nature, imagined that 
the moodiness of her father proceeded from hypochondriac fancies, 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



83 



She tripped merrily forth at the dawn of the appointed day to the 
bleaching-ground, and spread out her linen to soak in the 
morning dew. When she had fulfilled her task, she looked 
around her, and saw galloping forward a splendid cavalcade of 
knights and squires. She had not yet made her toilet, and 
therefore concealed herself behind a wild brier in full flower, and 
peeped forth at the procession. The handsomest rider of the 
party, a slim young man, with a raised visor, sprang to the bush 
and said, in a sweet voice, "I see thee, I seek thee, fairest, 
dearest; ah! conceal thyself not, mount swiftly behind me, 
lovely Eagle 's-bride L" When Adelheid heard these words, she 
was much confused ; the handsome knight pleased her well, but 
the title " Eagle's-bride " made the blood freeze in her veins ; she 
sank on the turf, her head whirled round, and, when she came to 
herself, she found herself in the arms of the courteous knight, 
and en route for the forest. 

Meanwhile her mamma was preparing the breakfast, and as 
Adelheid was missing, she despatched her youngest daughter to 
seek her. She went, but did not return. The mother, foreboding 
something wrong, felt desirous to see what detained her daugh- 
ters. She went, but did not return. The papa observed what 
had happened, his heart beat loudly in his breast, he hastened to 
the bleaching-ground, where the mother and daughter were still 
seeking anxiously for Adelheid, and calling her loudly by name ; 
and he also caused his voice to resound, although he well knew 
that all calling and seeking was in vain. He chanced to approach 
the brier, and, seeing something shine, discovered, on a closer 
examination, two golden wedges, each a hundred weight. Now, 
he could no longer delay to declare to his wife the adventure of 
his daughter. 4 ' Scandalous trafficker in souls!" screamed she. 
" Oh, father ! oh, murderer ! dost thou offer up thine own flesh and 
blood to Moloch for filthy lucre V* The Count, though not very 
eloquent, now defended himself to the best of his ability, offering, 
as an excuse, the imminent peril of his life ; but the disconsolate 
mother ceased not her bitter reproaches. He chose the safest 
means to put an end to the war of words, held his tongue and 
allowed the lady to talk as long as she liked. Meanwhile he 
conveyed the golden wedges to a place of safety, rolling them 
silently before him : then, for the sake of appearances, he put on 
family mourning for three days, and thought only of recommencing 
his former life. 

In a short time the castle became again the abode of joy, an 
elysium of feasts. Balls, tournaments, and banquets followed 
each other in constant succession. The lady Bertha dazzled the eyes 
of the stately knights at her father's court, as the silver moon, 
on a clear summer's night, delights the romantic wanderer ; she 
awarded the prize in the daily tournament, and led the evening 
dance with the -victor. The hospitality of the father, and the 



84 



POPULAR TALES. 



beauty of the daughter, attracted noble knights from the most 
distant lands. Many were rivals for the heart of the rich heiress, 
but among so many rivals the choice was difficult, as each new 
comer surpassed his compeers in grace and dignity. The lovely 
Bertha hesitated and delayed till the golden wedges, on which the 
Count had not spared the file, were reduced to the size of hazel- 
nuts. 

The Count's finances now dwindled to their former condi- 
tion; the tournaments ceased; knights and squires disappeared; 
the castle again wore a deserted air, and the noble family re- 
turned to their diet of potatoes. The Count strode moodily 
through the fields, longed for a fresh adventure, but found none, 
while he avoided the enchanted wood. One day he pursued a 
covey of partridges so far that he approached the dreaded forest, 
and, though he did not venture within its precincts, he approached 
very near to its limits, and perceived there a large fish-pond, 
which he had never before observed, in whose silver waters count- 
less trout were swimming. He rejoiced much at this discovery. 
The pond did not look at all suspicious, therefore he hastened 
home, made a net, and the next day saw him early on the shore, 
prepared to use it. By good fortune, he found a small skiff with 
a helm, among the rushes. He sprang into it, pulled merrily 
about, cast forth his net, took at one haul more trout than he 
could carry, and pulled back to the shore delighted with his booty. 
At about a stone's throw from the land, the boat stopped in its 
course, and remained as immovable as though he had run 
aground. The Count believed that this was the case, and laboured, 
with all his might, to set it afloat again ; but his efforts were un- 
availing. The water diminished around him ; the skiff appeared 
to hang to a cliff, and rose far above the surface. The inexperi- 
enced fisherman was not much delighted at this. Although the 
boat remained immovable, the shore appeared to recede from 
him on all sides, the pond expanded to a large lake, the ripple 
became waves which foamed and roared, and, with terror, he 
perceived that he and his boat were borne on the back of a 
monstrous fish. He gave himself up to his fate, which he awaited 
with great anxiety. Suddenly the fish dived, the boat was again 
afloat, but, in less than an instant, the monster appeared on the 
surface, opened its jaws, and uttered, as from a vault, these precise 
words : " Daring fisher, what attemptest thou here ? Thou mur- 
der est my subjects ! Thou shalt expiate the crime with thy 
life!" 

The Count was by this time so well acquainted with similar 
adventures, that he knew how to behave on the occasion. He 
soon recovered from his first astonishment, and, perceiving that 
the fish would listen to a word of reason, spoke out boldly : 
" My lord Behemoth, violate not the rites of hospitality; grant 
me a dish of fish out of your pond; if you appeared at my 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



85 



castle, both cellar and kitchen would be immediately open to 
you." — " We are not such trusty friends," replied the monster. 
" Knowest thou not yet the right of the strongest, who eats the 
weak? Thou robbest me of my subjects, to gobble them up, 
I will gobble thee up ! " Here the grim-looking fish opened his 
jaws yet farther, as if he wished to devour boat, man, and trouts. 
" Oh ! spare, spare my life," cried the Count, " you see I am but a 
meagre breakfast for your whale's stomach!" The great fish 
appeared to reflect a little: "Well then," he replied, "I know 
thou hast a lovely daughter, promise her to me in marriage, and so 
save thy life." When the Count heard that the fish began to talk 
in this manner, all his fear disappeared. " She is at your service," 
said he ; " you are a brave son-in-law, to whom no honest man 
would deny his daughter. But, with how much wilt thou redeem 
the bride, after the custom of the land?" — " I have," replied the 
fish, " neither gold nor silver ; but, in the depths of this lake lies 
a great treasure of pearl-oysters, thou hast only to name the 
quantity." — "Well, now," said the Count, "three bushels pay- 
ment in pearls are in truth not too much for a lovely bride." — 
" They are thine," decreed the fish, "and the bride is mine: in 
seven moons I will fetch my fair one home." Hereupon he 
lashed his tail briskly, and soon sent the boat to the shore. The 
Count brought his trout home, had them boiled, and enjoyed this 
Carthusian meal with the Countess and the lovely Bertha. The 
poor maiden did not forebode how dear this meal would cost her. 
Meanwhile, the moon had six times attained her full, and as 
often waned, and the Count had nearly forgotten his adventure ; 
however, as the silver luminary began, for the seventh time, to fill 
her horn, he thought on the approaching catastrophe, and, to 
avoid being an eye-witness thereof, he tore himself away, and 
undertook a little journey into the country. At the sultry hour 
of noon, on the day of the full moon, a stately squadron of 
horsemen rode in haste to the castle ; the Countess, startled at 
the visit of so many strangers, knew not whether she should open 
the gates or not. However, on a well-known knight announcing 
himself, she opened to him. He had, indeed, very often, in the 
days of prosperity and of plenty in the castle, frequented the 
tournaments, and tilted both in jest and earnest ; he had also 
received many meeds of valour from the hand of the fair Bertha, 
and led with her the dance; but, since the change in the fortunes 
of the Count, he, like the other knights, had disappeared. The 
good Countess w r as much ashamed of her great poverty, for she 
had nothing to present to the noble knight and his retinue. He, 
however, approached her in a friendly manner, and only begged a 
draught of fresh water from the cool rock-spring of the castle, as 
he had formerly been accustomed to do, for he had a habit of 
never drinking wine, from which he was named, in jest, "the 
Water Knight." The lovely Bertha hastened, at the command of 



her mother, to the spring, filled a pitcher, and presented to the 
knight a crystal bowl. He received it from her delicate hand, 
put to his lips the part which her rosy mouth had touched, and 
pledged her with inward rapture. Meanwhile the Countess was 
greatly embarrassed at not being able to offer a repast to her 
guest ; at length she bethought herself of a fine juicy water- 
lemon, which was ripening in the castle garden. In a moment 
she slipped out of the door, gathered the melon, and placed it on 
an earthenware plate, covered with many vine-leaves, and gar- 
nished with the loveliest and most odoriferous flowers, in order 
to present it to her guest. When she came back from the garden, 
the castle-yard was empty and deserted, she saw neither horse 
nor rider more ; in the hall was neither knight nor squire : she 
called her daughter Bertha ; sought her through the whole house, 
and found her not. In the porch, however, were placed three 
sacks of new linen, which she had not remarked in her first con- 
fusion, and which appeared, on her feeling them, to be filled with 
grain; her affliction did not permit her to search more closely into 
them. The good mother abandoned herself entirely to her sorrow, 
and wept aloud until the evening, when her husband returned 
a_id found her in great grief. She could not conceal from him the 
event of the day, however gladly she would have done so, for she 
feared great reproaches from him, for having admitted into the 
castle a strange knight, who had carried away the beloved 
daughter. But the Count consoled her tenderly, and only in- 
quired after the sacks of grain, of which she had spoken, went 
forth to view them, and opened one in her presence. 

How great was the astonishment of the sorrowful Countess 
when beautiful pearls rolled out, as large as the biggest garden- 
seeds, perfectly round, delicately bored, and of the purest water. 
She perceived that the robber of her daughter had paid her 
mother's tears in pearls, conceived a high opinion of his pos- 
sessions and rank, and consoled herself with the idea that this 
son-in-law was no monster, but a stately knight ; while the Count 
did not deprive her of this consolation. 

Now the parents had, indeed, lost all their daughters, but they 
possessed, in recompense, an immeasurable treasure. The Count 
soon turned a part of it into gold. From morning to evening, the 
castle swarmed with merchants and Jews, who traded for the 
precious pearls. The Count redeemed his towns, let his forest 
castle to a tenant, returned to his former residence, established 
again his princely household, and lived now no longer as a spend- 
thrift, but as a good host, since he had now no more daughters to 
negotiate for. The noble pair lived again in great delight ; but 
the Countess could not console herself for the loss of her daugh- 
ters ; she constantly wore mourning, and never was cheerful. 
For some time she hoped to see again her Bertha, with the rich 
pearl-knight; and, as often as a stranger was announced at the 



THE THREE StSTEfcS 



court, she expected the returning: son-in-law. At length the Count 
could no longer persuade himself to amuse her with empty hopes : 
one day he ventured to tell her, that this lordly son-in-law was 
a monstrous fish. " Ah ! " sighed the Countess, — " ah ! unhappy 
mother that I am ! Have 1 given birth to children that they 
might become the prey of horrible monsters ? What is all earthly 
happiness — what are all treasures to a childless mother?" 



CHAPTER II. 

All the maidens at the castle sympathized much in the griefs 
of their good lady, and wept and condoled with her : they also 
sought at times to make her merry with songs and instruments 
of music; but her heart was inaccessible to joy. Every lady of 
the court gave wise counsel, how the spirit of melancholy might 
be banished ; notwithstanding this, nothing could be thought of 
which in any degree lessened the sorrow of the Countess. The 
maiden who presented to her water for her hands was clever and 
sensible above all her fellow-servants, and was much favoured by 
her mistress ; she had a feeling heart, and the grief of her lady 
brought many tears into her eyes. In order to avoid appearing 
forward, she had ever remained silent ; at length she could no 
longer repress her inward desire to communicate also her good 
counsel. " Noble lady," said she, " if you would listen to me, I 
could, in truth, tell you a method by which the wounds of your 
heart might be healed." The Countess said, "Speak!" — "Not 
far from your residence," continued the maiden, "dwells a pious 
hermit, in a lonely grotto, whither many pilgrims direct their 
steps m different necessities. How would it be, if you sought 
from the holy man consolation and assistance? at least his prayers 
would restore the tranquillity of your heart." The Countess was 
pleased with this proposal ; she wrapped herself in a pilgrim's 
mantle, repaired in that guise to the pious hermit, disclosed to 
him her suit, presented him with a rosary of the ransom pearls, 
and begged his prayers and blessing. These were so efficacious, 
that, before a year had elapsed, the Countess was quite recovered 
from her sadness; and shortly after she gave birth to a young son. 

Great was the joy of the parents over the new-born darling. 
The whole territory was changed into a theatre of rejoicings, and 
| of solemnities, on occasion of the birth of the young heir. His 
father named him "Reinald, — the child of wonder." The boy 
was beautiful as Cupid himself, and was brought up with as 
much care as if the dawn of the philanthropic method had then 
already commenced. He grew up active, strong, and cheerful, and 
was the joy of his father and the comfort of his mo 'her, who tended 
him as the apple of her eye. Although he was now in truth the 



8S 



POPULAR TALES. 



darling of her heart, yet the remembrance of her three daughters 
faded not from her mind : often, when she clasped the little 
smiling Reinald in her arms, a tear trickled on his cheek, and, as 
the dear boy grew somewhat older, he often asked sadly, " Good 
mother, why weepest thou?" The Countess, however, concealed 
from him, with great care, the cause of her secret grief ; since, 
with the exception of her husband, no one knew what had become 
of the three young countesses. Many speculative people imagined 
they had been carried off by knights -errant, which was not then 
unfrequently the case ; others maintained that they lived concealed 
in a cloister ; others, still, fancied they had seen them in the 
suite of the Queen of Burgundy, or of the Countess of Flanders. 
By a thousand caresses, Reinald at length drew from his tender 
mother the secret; she related to liim the adventures of his 
sisters, with all the attendant circumstances, and he lost not a 
word of the wonderful history out of his heart. Xow he had no 
other wish than to be able to bear arms, that he might undertake 
the adventure of seeking his sisters in the enchanted forest, and 
breaking the spell which bound them. As soon as he was dubbed 
a knight, he sought permission from his father to make, as he pre- 
tended, a campaign in Flanders. The Count rejoiced at the 
knightly spirit of his son, gave him horses and weapons, together 
with esquires and baggage-bearers, and sent him away with his 
blessing, though the careful mother gave a very un willing consent 
to his departure. 

Scarcely had the young knight turned his back on his native 
place, when he quitted the high-road, hastened with romantic 
eagerness to the forest castle, and sought shelter from the tenant, 
who received and entertained him honourably. In the early 
morning, while all hi the castle lay yet in sweet slumber, he 
saddled his horse, left his retinue behind, and rode at full speed, 
full of energy and youthful fire, into the enchanted forest. The 
farther he advanced, the thicker grew the bushes, and the rugged 
rocks re-echoed to the hoofs of his horse. All around him was 
solitary and waste, and the thick-growing trees appeared com- 
passionately to arrest the further progress of the young adven- 
turer. He dismounted, let his horse graze, cut a way through the 
bushes with his sword, scrambled over the steep rocks, and slid 
down the precipices. After long efforts, he arrived in a winding 
valley, through which a clear brook meandered. He followed its 
windings ; in the distance a rocky cave opened its subterranean 
jaws, before which something resembling a human form appeared 
to move. The daring youth redoubled his steps, followed the 
path between the trees, looked closely into the grotto from behind 
a high oak, and saw a young lady sitting on the grass, caressing, 
in her lap, a small unshapely bear, whilst a large one sported 
around her, sometimes hnitating a little man, sometimes tumbling 
sportively head over tail, which game seemed much to amuse the. 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



83 



lady. Reinald recognised the lady, from the description of his 
mother, for his sister Wulfilda, and sprang hastily forth from his 
concealment, to discover himself to her. As soon, however, as 
she looked on the young man, she gave a loud scream, threw the 
little bear on the grass, sprang up to meet the approaching 
youth, and spoke thus to him, with a melancholy voice and 
troubled mien : " O youth, what unpropitious star leads thee 
into this wood ? Here dwells a wild bear, which eats all the 
children of men who approach his dwelling ; flee, and save thy- 
self !" He bowed modestly to the lovely lady, and answered, 
"Fear nothing, O kind petitioner, I know this forest and its 
adventures, and come to break the spell which holds thee here a 
prisoner." — "Fool!" said she, "who art thou, that thou darest 
venture to break the mighty spell ? and how hast thou the 
power ? " — He replied : " With this arm, and by this sword ! I am 
Reinald, named the child of wonder, the son of the Count, whom 
this forest robbed of three lovely daughters. Art thou not Wulfilda, 
his firstborn?" At this discourse the lady was yet more dis- 
tressed, and stared at the young man in silent astonishment. 
He profited by this pause, and proved his identity by so many 
family cir cum stances, that she could no longer doubt Reinald to 
be her brother. She embraced him tenderly, though her knees 
shook with fear at the imminent danger to which he was exposed. 

The lovely Wulfilda hereupon conducted her beloved guest 
into the den, in order to seek out there a nook in which to conceal 
him. In this spacious, gloomy vault lay a heap of moss, which 
served as a couch for the bear and his young; opposite stood a 
splendid bed, hung with red damask and adorned with gold lace, 
for the lady. Reinald was obliged to take his place hastily 
beneath the bedstead, and there await his fate. All noise and 
rustling was forbidden to him on peril of his life ; moreover, his 
anxious sister carefully enjoined him neither to cough nor to 
sneeze. 

Scarcely was the daring young man in his place of refuge, when 
the fearful bear growled within the den, and snuffed all around 
with a bloody snout ; he had discovered the noble steed of the 
knight in the forest, and had torn him up. Wulfilda sat on her 
throne-bed as on coals; her heart was depressed and anxious, for 
she soon perceived that her lord and husband was in a bearish 
mood, while he probably remarked the presence, in the cave, of 
the strange guest. She did not neglect, on this account, to caress 
him tenderly, stroked him gently down the back with her velvet 
hand, and rubbed his ears ; but the terrific brute appeared to 
care but little for these caresses. " I smell the flesh of man,"' 
murmured the glutton out of his wide throat. " Bear of my heart," 
said the lady, " thou mistakest, how should a man come into this 
dreary wilderness ?" — " I smell the flesh of man," repeated he, and 
began to spy around the silken bed of his spouse. This was not 



90 



POPULAR TALES, 



very encouraging for the knight ; and, in spite of his stout-hearted- 
ness, the cold sweat stood upon his brow. Meanwhile the extreme 
peril rendered the lady courageous and determined. " Friend 
Bear," said she, " thou wilt soon drive me beyond bounds : away 
with thee from my place of repose, or fear my wrath." The grisly 
bear did not take this menace much to heart, and ceased not to 
smell around the bed-hangings. Although he was so much a 
bear, yet he was, nevertheless, under the dominion of his lady. 
"When he prepared to force his thick skull under the bedstead 
Wulfilda took heart, and sent him off with such an energetic kick 
in his side, that he crept quite submissively to his Utter, cowered 
down there, growling till the approach of day, and caressing his 
young. Soon afterwards he fell asleep, and snored like a bear. 
Immediately the trusty sister refreshed her brother with a glass 
of sack and some biscuit, and admonished him to be of good cheer, 
since the danger was now, in a great measure, past. Reinald was 
so fatigued with his adventure, that he soon after fell into a deep 
sleep, and snored in emulation of his brother-in-law Bear. 

On awaking he found himself in a splendid state bed, in a 
chamber with silken tapestry. The morning sun peeped cheerily 
in between the drawn curtains ; near the bed lay his clothes and 
knightly armour on a low stool covered with velvet, also a little 
silver bell stood near, to summon the servants. Reinald under- 
stood not how he could have been transported from the horrible 
grotto into so splendid a palace, and doubted whether he dreamed 
now, or had previously dreamed the adventure in the forest. To 
free himself from this uncertainty, he rang the bell. An elegantly- 
dressed valet-de-chambre entered, inquired his commands, and 
informed him that his sister "Wulfilda, and her husband Albert 
the Bear, awaited him anxiously. The young Count could not 
recover from his astonishment. Although even the mention of 
the Bear caused the cold perspiration to stand on his forehead, he 
caused himself to be quickly dressed, and went forth into the ante- 
chamber, where he found attendant pages, couriers, and heydukes. 
With this retinue he proceeded through a vast number of state 
apartments and halls to the audience-chamber, where his sister 
received him with the air of a princess. She had near her two 
most lovely children, a prince of seven years old and a delicate 
little girl, who was still in leading-strings. A moment afterwards 
entered Albert the Bear, who had now laid aside his terrible 
aspect, and all the characteristics of a bear, and appeared as the 
most estimable prince. Wulfilda presented to him her brother, 
and Albert embraced his brother-in-law with all the warmth of 
friendship and fraternal love. 

The prince was, with all his court, enchanted by an evil magi- 
cian on certain days. He enjoyed the privilege, every seventh 
day, to be free from the enchantment from one dawn till another. 
As soon, however-, as the silver stars began to fade in the heaven. 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



91 



and the morning dew to sparkle on the grass, the previous en- 
chantment resumed its power ; the castle changed into a rugged 
inaccessible rock, the beautiful park surrounding it into a dreary 
wilderness, the springs and cascades into stagnant desolate 
marshes, the owner of the castle became a shaggy bear, the 
knights and squires became badgers and martens, the ladies and 
chambermaids of the court, owls and flittermice, which hooted 
and moaned day and night. 

It was on one of those days of disenchantment, that Albert led 
home his bride. The lovely Wulfilda, who had for six days wept 
her union with a shaggy bear, allowed her melancholy to abate, 
when she found herself in the arms of a young and shapely 
knight, who embraced her lovingly and conducted her to a splendid 
palace, where dazzling bridal pomp awaited her. She was received 
with music and songs by lovely slaves in myrtle wreaths, divested 
of her country dress, and adorned as the bride of a king. Although 
indeed she was not vain, yet she could not conceal an internal 
delight at her lovely figure, when the crystal mirrors on all the 
walls of the bridal chamber told her a thousand flatteries. A 
splendid entertainment followed the marriage ceremony, and a 
magnificent state ball closed the festivities of the auspicious day. 
The charming bride breathed joy and felicity in the feeling of love 
which kindled first in her maidenly heart on her wedding-day, 
after the fashion of the old times, and the revolting image of the 
bear was quite driven out of her imagination. At midnight she 
was conducted by her husband with much pomp to the bridal 
chamber. In the morning how great was her astonishment ! 
She could nowhere find her husband, and she speedily found 
herself transported into a gloomy vault, where the broken 
daylight entered through the mouth, and only gave sufficient 
brightness, to make her sensible of the presence of a terrible 
bear, which looked sadly at her from a corner. She sank back 
on her couch and swooned away with horror. After a long 
interval she came to herself again, and collected sufficient 
strength to raise a loud cry, which was answered by the croaking 
voice of a hundred owls from without the cave. The feeling 
bear could not remain, to witness this scene of grief, he must 
needs go forth, to pant out his grief and distress, at his hard 
destiny, under God's free heaven. He raised himself sluggishly 
from his place and staggered forth growling into the forest, from 
which he did not return till a short time before the transformation 
on the seventh day. The six days of grief appeared like years to 
the inconsolable lady. In the marriage festivities they had neg- 
lected to furnish the couch of the lady with food and refreshment, 
for over all lifeless things which the lovely Wulfilda herself 
touched the magician had no power ; although her husband would 
even in her arms have returned to a bear, in the hour of trans- 
formation. In the anxiety of her heart, the unhappy ladv pined 

I 3 



92 



POPULAR TALES. 



for two days without thinking of nourishment ; at length, how- 
ever, nature demanded, with great importunity, the means of 
support, and created a wild feverish hunger which drove her out 
of the den to seek food. She ladled in the hollow of her hand a 
little water out of the neighbouring purling stream, and refreshed 
with it her heated parched lips, plucked some hips and bramble- 
berries, and swallowed in her confusion a handful of acorns, which 
she eagerly picked, and she carried back with her into the den 
an apron-full more, through mere instinct, for she had but little 
care for her life, and she desired nothing more eagerly than her 
death. With this wish she fell asleep on the evening of the sixth 
day, and awoke with the dawn in the same chamber which she 
had entered as a bride. She found there everything in the exact 
order in which she had left it, the handsomest and most loving 
bridegroom at her side, who testified to her in the most moving 
expressions his sympathy at the melancholy situation into which 
his irresistible love for her had brought her, and with tears in his 
eyes solicited forgiveness, He explained to her the circumstances 
of the enchantment which every seventh day rendered in efficacious, 
restoring everything to its natural form. Wulfilda was moved 
by the affection of her husband ; she reflected that a marriage 
would be pleasant enough, when the seventh day would always 
be peaceful, and that only the most fortunate of married people 
can boast this privilege ; in short, she resigned herself to her fate, 
returned love for love, and made her Albert the happiest bear 
under the sun. In order to be never again in danger of starving 
in the forest den, each time that she sat down to table she put on 
a pair of capacious pockets, which she loaded with confectionary, 
sweet oranges, and other costly fruits. Also the customary 
evening draught of her lord, which was placed in the bedchamber, 
she concealed carefully in her bedstead, and thus, both kitchen 
and cellar were ever sufficiently prepared before the hour of 
transformation. 

She had already passed one-and-twenty years in the enchanted 
forest, and this long time had impaired none of her youthful 
charms ; the mutual love of the noble pair was also still the effect 
of the first powerful instinct. Mother Nature maintains her 
rights everywhere, notwithstanding apparent interruption; even 
in the world of enchantment she watches for them with great 
care and anxiety, and averts all the advances, and all powerful 
changes of time, as long as the things of this lower world are 
removed from her dominion -by the unnatural encroachments of 
magic. According to the testimony of the holy legend, the pious 
seven sleepers arose from the catacombs of Rome, after they had 
slept out their sleep of a hundred years, as vigorous and active 
as they had lain down, and had only aged one single night. The 
lovely Wulfilda had, according to the reckoning of good mother 
Nature, only lived three years in the twenty-one years, and was 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



still in the flower of her days. This reckoning held good also 
with her husband, and with all the enchanted court. 

All this the noble pair disclosed to the amiable knight in the 
course of a ramble in the park, under an arbour, in which the 
wild jasmine and climbing honeysuckle were interwoven. The 
happy day passed only too quickly amid the pageantry of a court- 
gala, and mutual protestations of friendship. They partook 
together of the noonday meal, which was followed by games and 
diversions. Some of the courtiers wandered forth for amusement 
with the ladies, into the park, and passed the time in jests and 
lays of love, until the trumpet sounded for the evening meal, 
which was served in a gallery hung with mirrors, and lighted by 
innumerable wax tapers. They ate, drank, and made merry, till, 
at midnight, Wulfilda stored her pockets as usual, and counselled 
her brother not to forget his own. When the table was cleared, 
Albert appeared to become troubled, and whispered something in 
the ear of his wife ; thereupon she took her brother aside, and 
spoke sorrowfully : " Beloved brother, we must part; the hour of 
transformation, when all the joys of this palace disappear, is now 
near at hand. Albert is troubled for thy sake ; he fears for thy 
life ; he would not have power to resist the brute instinct to tear 
thee in pieces, if thou shouldst aw r ait here the approaching 
change. Quit this unlucky wood, and never return to us again.'' — 
" Ah ! " answered Reinald, " let whatever fate has decreed for me 
happen, I cannot part from thee, thou loved one. To seek thee 
out, O sister ! was my enterprise, and now that I have found 
thee, I will not quit the forest without thee. Say, how can I 
dissolve the powerful enchantment?" — "Ah!" said she, "it is 
in the power of no mortal to dissolve it." Here Albert joined in 
the conversation ; and when he learned the daring resolve of the 
young knight, he dissuaded him so plausibly from his project with 
loving words, that the latter, at length, yielded to the desire of 
his brother -in-law r , and to the entreaties and tears of his tender 
sister, and was forced to prepare to take leave. 

Prince Albert embraced the brave young man in a brotherly 
manner ; and after the latter had embraced his sister, and was 
now ready to depart, the prince drew T forth his pocket-book, and 
took out of it three bear's hairs, rolled them in a paper, and gave 
them, laughingly, to the knight, as a memento by which to 
remember the adventure in the enchanted wood. " Yet," he 
added, earnestly, " despise not this trifle ; should you by chance, 
at any time, be in need of help, rub these three hairs between 
your hands, and await the result." In the castle-yard stood a 
handsome phaeton, with six black horses, together with many 
riders and attendants. Reinald entered it. " Adieu, my brother,'* 
cried Albert the Bear, at the threshold. — "Adieu, my brother/' 
replied Reinald, the Wonder Child, and the carriage thundered 
over the drawbridge and away. The golden stars twinkled still 



94 



POPULAR TALES, 



brightly in the heavens ; the procession went over stock and stone, 
over heaths and fields, up hills and down hills, through wilder- 
nesses and forests, without rest or repose, at a good trot. After 
a full hour the heavens began to wear a grey aspect ; suddenly 
all the torches were extinguished ; Reinald found himself placed 
on the ground rather roughly, without knowing how it happened ; 
the phaeton, with horses and riders, had disappeared ; but in the 
glimmering of dawn, he saw six black ants galloping away be- 
tween his feet, drawing after them a nutshell. 

The courageous knight now knew easily the solution of the 
adventure, he carefully avoided crushing an emmet by any 
accident, awaited tranquilly the rising of the sun, and, as he 
still found himself within the limits of the forest, he resolved 
to seek out likewise his two youngest sisters, and if he should 
not succeed in disenchanting them, at least to pay them a visit. 

Three days he wandered about uselessly in the wood without 
encountering anything marvellous. He had but just consumed 
the last remnant of a milk-loaf from the table of his brother-in- 
law, Albert the Bear, when he heard something rustle in the air 
above him, as when a ship in full sail cleaves the waves. He 
looked up, and perceived a powerful eagle, which stooped from 
the air into a nest which he had in a tree. Reinald was much 
rejoiced at this discovery, concealed himself in the undergrowth 
of the wood, and waited till the eagle should again fly forth. 
After seven hours he rose from the nest ; immediately the ambus- 
cading youth stepped forth into the fresh air, and cried with a 
loud voice — " Adeljieid, beloved sister, if thou dwellest in this 
high oak, answer to my voice. I am Reinald, named the Child of 
Wonder, thy brother, who seeks thee, and labours to destroy the 
powerful enchantment which fetters thee." So soon as he had 
ceased to speak, a soft womanly voice answered him from above, 
as if out of the clouds, " Art thou Reinald, the Child of Wonder? 
Welcome then to thy sister Adelheid, delay not to climb up to 
her, and embrace the disconsolate one." Delighted at this affec- 
tionate welcome, the knight joyfully ventured the attempt to 
scramble up the high tree, but to no purpose. Three times he 
ran round the stem, but it was too thick for him to embrace, and 
the lowest branches were much too high for him to reach. While 
he was thinking eagerly of some means of reaching his end, there 
fell down a silken rope ladder, through the help of which he soon 
arrived at the eyrie, at the summit of the tree ; it was as roomy 
and as strongly built as a balcony on a lime-tree. He found his 
sister sitting under a canopy, protected from the weather on the 
exterior with honeycomb, and hung in the interior with rose- 
coloured satin. The meeting was very affectionate on both sides. 
Adelheid had regular news from her father's house, and knew 
that Reinald was her young brother. Edgar the Eagle, her 
husband, was enchanted for weeks; In every seven weeks he 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



passed one free from enchantment. In this interval he had, from 
love to his wife, often visited incognito the court of his father-in- 
law, and had given her news from time to time how things were 
going on there. Adelheid invited her brother to await the next 
transformation with her, and although the event was six weeks 
distant, he willingly agreed. She concealed him in a hollow tree, 
and fed him daily out of the magazine under her sofa, which was 
richly provided with ships' stores, that is to say, such provisions 
as will keep good for six weeks. She dismissed him with the 
well-intentioned exhortation — "As thou lovest thy life, preserve 
thyself from Edgar's eagle glance ; if he see thee in his enclo- 
sure, all is over with thee ; he will tear out thy eyes, and eat out 
thy heart, as he did only yesterday to three of thy squires who 
sought thee here in the forest." 

Reinald shuddered at the fate of the poor squires, promised to 
take great care of himself, and remained six tedious weeks in the 
Patmos of the hollow tree ; yet he enjoyed the pleasure of talking 
with his sister, as often as the eagle flew from the nest. But, for 
this trial of his patience, he was afterwards fully recompensed by 
seven joyful days. 

The reception at the court of brother-in-law Eagle was not less 
friendly than at that of brother-in-law Bear. His castle, his court, 
all was here as there ; every day was a festival ; but the time of 
the fatal transformation now approached too quickly. On the 
evening of the seventh day Edgar dismissed his guest with the 
most tender embraces, yet he warned him not to enter again his 
domain. " Shall I," said Reinald, sorrowfully, " separate for ever 
from you dear ones ? Is it not possible to break the baneful 
spell which detains you here ? Had I a hundred lives to lose, I 
would venture them all to free you." Edgar pressed his hand 
warmly. " Thanks, noble young man, for your love and friend- 
ship, but give up the rash enterprise. It is possible to dissolve 
our enchantment, but you shall not, you must not, do it. Who- 
ever attempts it, if it miscarries, pays for it with his life, and you 
shall not be the sacrifice for us." 

The heroic' courage of Reinald was yet more excited by this 
speech to undertake the adventure. His eyes sparkled with 
desire, and a ray of hope of the attainment of his end tinged his 
cheek. He implored his brother-in-law Edgar to confide to him 
the secret of the dissolving the enchantment of the forest; but 
the former would disclose nothing to him for fear of placing the 
life of the young man in danger. " All that I can tell you, 
beloved brother, is, that you must find the key to the enchant- 
ment if you will succeed in freeing us. If you are destined by 
fate to be our deliverer, the stars will point out to you the way 
in which to attempt it, otherwise all your attempts will be but 
folly. ; ' Here he drew out his pocket-book, and took out of it 
three eagle's feathery which he presented to the knight as a 



96 



POPULAR TALES. 



remembrance of him. If he -was at any time in need of help, he 
was to rub them between his hands, and await the result. They 
then parted affectionately. Edgar's grand-marshal and the 
courtiers accompanied the beloved stranger through a long 
avenue, planted with Weymouth pines, spruces, and yews, as 
far as the boundary of the grounds, and as soon as he was 
beyond their limits, they closed the grated door, and hastened 
speedily back, since the hour of transformation was fast ap- 
proaching. Reinald sat down under a lime, in order to witness 
the marvel ; the full moon shone out clear and bright ; he still 
saw clearly the castle, standing prominently forth above the sum- 
mits of the high trees. But in the morning twilight he found 
himself enveloped in a thick fog, and as the rising sun dispersed 
this, castle, park, and grated door had vanished, and he found 
himself in a dreary waste, on the summit of a cliff, near an un- 
fathomable abyss. The young adventurer looked all around to 
find a way down into the valley ; he perceived in the distance a 
lake, whose mirrored surface was silvered by the reflection of the 
sunbeams. With great labour he forced himself all day through 
the thickly-growing wood; his thoughts and desires were all 
directed to the lake where he imagined his third sister, Bertha, to 
be ; but the farther he advanced in the tangled thicket, the more 
intricate it became ; he lost sight of the lake, and also lost the 
hope of seeing it again. Towards sunset, he saw indeed the ex- 
panse of water glimmering between the trees where the wood 
grew thinner, but still he did not reach the shore till the approach 
of night. Tired out, he made his couch under a tree, and did 
not awake till the sun stood already high in the heavens. He 
found himself refreshed by the sleep, and, with vigorous and 
hardy limbs, he sprang up suddenly, and wandered along the 
shore, full of thought and of projects for reaching his sister in 
the lake. To no purpose he made his words of greeting to 
resound : " Bertha, beloved sister, dwellest thou in this water ? 
answer my speech! I am Reinald, named the Wonder Child, 
thy brother ; who seeks thee in order to dissolve thy spell, and to 
lead thee forth from this watery prison." Nothing but the many- 
voiced echo of the wood replied to him. " O you beloved fish," 
continued he (as whole troops of red-spotted trout swam to the 
shore and appeared to gape at the young stranger), " you beloved 
fish ! say to your mistress, that her brother tarries on the shore 
to see her." He crumbled all the fragments which he found still 
in his pockets, and threw them into the pond, to entice the fish 
that they might carry a message from him to his sister; but the 
trout snapped greedily for the crumbs, without troubling them- 
selves any further about their benefactor. Reinald saw well that 
nothing was to be attained by his fish-homily, so he sought to 
conduct his undertaking in another manner. As an active knight, 
he was well skilled in all bodily exercises, and could swim like a 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



97 



water-rat ; therefore he quickly took his resolution, disencum- 
bered himself of his armour, took no weapon but his naked sword 
in his hand, and sprang in his doublet of fire-coloured satin (for 
he did not find a boat as his father had previously done) courage- 
ously into the water, to seek out his brother-in-law, Behemoth. 
" He willnot," thought he, " gobble me up at once, but will listen to 
a word of reason, as he did with my father." Therefore he struck out 
lustily among the waves, and dashed about in the blue waters, in 
the middle of the pond, hoping to decoy the monster to the surface. 

As long as his strength permitted him, he followed boldly 
the watery path without encountering any adventure ; when, 
however, he began to tire, he looked towards the shore, and saw, 
at a short distance, a thin vapour ascending, which appeared to 
issue from behind a lofty piece of ice. He swam with all his 
strength to behold this appearance more closely, and found, 
standing forth above the water, a column of rock crystal, 
which appeared to be hollow, as out of it arose a heart-rejoicing 
odour, ascending in little clouds of steam, which the current of 
air flung back on the water. The daring swimmer imagined that 
this might well be the chimney of the subterranean dwelling of 
his sister. He ventured also to slip into it, and his expectations 
did not deceive him. The chimney led undoubtedly into the 
flue of the sleeping-apartment of the lovely Bertha, who was 
then occupied, in the most enchanting morning costume, in pre- 
paring her chocolate over a small fire of red sandal-wood. When 
the lady perceived the rustling in the chimney, and suddenly saw 
the figure of a man emerging from the chimney, her spirits were 
so much disturbed at this unexpected visit, that she overturned 
the chocolate-pot in her fright, and fell back fainting in her arm- 
chair. Reinald shook her till she came to herself, and, as soon 
as she had recovered herself a little, she said in a feeble voice, 
" Unhappy man, whoever thou mayest be, how darest thou venture 
to enter this subterranean dwelling? knowest thou not that this 
temerity brings thee to unavoidable death?" — "Fear nothmg, my 
love," said the knight, " I am thy brother Reinald, named the 
Wonder Child, who neither fears danger nor death in seeking 
out his beloved sister, and breaking the bands of the enchant- 
ment which enchains her." Bertha embraced her brother tenderly, 
but her slender person trembled with fear. 

Ufo the Dolphin, her husband, had likewise, at times, sought 
the court of his father-in-law in the strictest incognito, and had 
lately learned that Reinald had departed to seek out his sisters. 
This daring project of the young man he had often lamented. 
" If," said he, " brother-in-law Bear does not eat him, nor 
brother-in-law Eagle peck out his eyes, brother-in-law Dolphin 
will certainly gobble him up. I fear that, in a fit of brute rage, 
I may not have power to resist the impulse to eat him, and 
even if thou, beloved, shouldst embrace him with thy tender 



POPULAR TALE> 



arms for protection, I should destroy the crystal dwelling, so that 
the entering waters would drown thee, and I should bury him 
in my whale-like stomach, since at the time of transformation 
thou knowest that our dwelling is inaccessible to every stranger. 

All this the lovely Bertha concealed not from her brother. 
He however answered, " Canst thou not conceal me from the 
eyes of the monster as thy sisters did, that I may remain here till 
the charm disappears V — "Ah !" replied she, " how could I conceal 
thee 1 seest thou not that this dwelling is of crystal, and that all 
the walls are as transparent as a glass-house?" — " There must 
yet be somewhere an opaque corner in the house," replied Ronald, 
" or art thou the only German wife who has not the power to 
deceive the eyes of her husband?" The lovely Bertha was quite 
inexperienced in this art, she thought and thought, at length the 
wood-room came happily into her head, wherein she could conceal 
her brother. He received the proposal without making any 
objection, arranged the wood in the transparent chamber as art- 
fully as a beaver constructs his subterraneous dwelling, and con- 
cealed himself in it to the best of his power. The lady hastened 
immediately to her toilet-table, made herself look as charming as 
possible, put on one of her prettiest dresses, which set off her 
slim figure, went into the audience-chamber, awaiting the visit of 
Ufo the Dolphin, and stood there as lovely as one of the three 
graces in the imagination of a poet. Ufo the Dolphin could not 
otherwise enjoy the society of his amiable lady, than by daily 
paying her a visit, gazing on her form without through the glass- 
house, and thus feeding on the sight of her loveliness. 

Scarcely had the virtuous Bertha entered her audience-chamber 
when the monstrous fish came swimming towards it, the water 
soon began to foam in the distance, and the waves curled in a 
vortex around the crystal palace. 

The sea-monster stood without before the chamber, spouted 
forth streams of water, imbibing them previously in his wide jaws, 
and gazed with his sea-green eyes, silently and vacantly on the 
lovely lady. The more the good lady endeavoured to assume an 
air of unconcern, the less was it in her pow r er ; all cunning and 
dissimulation was foreign to her, her heart quaked and was dis- 
mayed, her bosom rose high and quickly, her cheeks and hps 
glowed and suddenly grew pale. The dolphin, notwithstand- 
ing his dull fish nature, had yet sufficient acquaintance with 
physiognomy to suspect something from these signs, — made 
horrible grimaces, and darted forth like an arrow. He circum- 
navigated the palace in innumerable whirls, and made such con- 
fusion in the waters that the crystal dwelling shook, and the 
affrighted Bertha expected every moment that he would dash it in 
pieces. The watchful dolphin could meanwhile discover nothing, 
in this rigid examination, which might strengthen his suspicions, 
therefore he became suddenly more peaceable, and luckily he had 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



in his wrath so troubled the water, that he could not see in what 
a state the timid Bertha was. He swam away, the lady recovered 
from her fright, Reinald concealed himself peacefully and tran- 
quilly in the wood-cellar, till the time of transformation should 
arrive ; and although according to all appearances brother-in-law 
Dolphin did not let all suspicion sleep, for he never forgot in his 
daily visits to swim three times around the house, and to peep 
through every corner of the crystal palace, yet he did not behave 
so furiously as the first time. The hour of transformation at 
length freed the patient prisoner from the wood-house. 

One day, when he awoke, he found himself in a kingly palace, 
on a small island. Buildings, pleasure-gardens, market-places, — 
all appeared to swim on the water ; hundreds of gondolas plied 
up and down the canals, and all lived and moved in the public 
places in pleasant occupation ; in short, the palace of brother-in- 
law Dolphin was a little Venice. The reception of the young 
knight was here quite as friendly and hearty as with the two other 
brothers-in-law. Ufo the Dolphin was enchanted by months ; 
the seventh was always the rest-month of the enchantment ; from 
one full moon to another all prospered in its natural form. Since 
Reinald's sojourn here extended longer, he became also better 
acquainted with brother-in-law Ufo, and lived on terms of greater 
intimacy with him than with the others. His curiosity had long 
troubled him to learn through what fate the three princes had 
been placed in the unnatural state of enchantment ; he inquired 
diligently on the subject of his sister Bertha, but she could give 
him no information, and Ufo observed on this point a taciturn 
silence. Reinald thus learned not what he wished. Meanwhile, 
the days of joy hurried away on the wings of the wind; the 
moon lost her silver horns, and rounded her form more every 
day. 

In a sentimental evening promenade, Ufo explained to his 
brother-in-law Reinald that the hour of separation was but a few 
hours distant, and exhorted him to return to his parents, who 
lived in great anxiety on his account ; his mother was quite in- 
consolable since it was known at the court that he was not gone 
to Flanders, but to seek adventures in the enchanted wood. 
Reinald asked if the forest yet contained many, and learned there 
was but one remaining, of which he was already informed, — namely, 
to seek the prize of the key to the enchantment, and to destroy 
the mysterious talisman ; as long as this worked, no deliverance 
could be hoped for the princes. " But," added Ufo the Dolphin, 
in a friendly manner, " follow good counsel, young man ; be 
thankful to Heaven, as well as the protection of the ladies your 
sisters, that you are not the sacrifice of your brave undertaking 
to penetrate the enchanted wood. Let the glory which you have 
acquired suffice you ; depart, and carry news to your parents of 
what you have heard and seen, and, through your return, restore 



100 



POPULAR TALES. 



your good mother from the brink of the grave, to which grief and 
sorrow, on your account, have brought her." Reinald promised 
what brother-in-law Ufo desired, with a reservation to do what 
he liked best ; for the sons of nobles, when they are grown beyond 
their mother's discipline, and are become tall, and strong, and 
mount proud coursers, trouble themselves but little about the 
tears of their affectionate mothers. Ufo soon perceived on what 
the thoughts of the young man were fixed ; for this reason, he drew 
forth his pocket-book, and took out of it three fish's scales, made 
him a present of them, and said, " If at any time you are in need 
of help, rub them between your hands ; they will instantly become 
warm, and await the result." Reinald entered a handsomely- 
gilded gondola, and was rowed to the land by two gondoliers. 
Scarcely was he on the shore, when the gondola, the castle, the 
gardens, and the market-places, disappeared, and nothing re- 
mained of all the splendour but a large fish-pond, surrounded 
by high sedges, through which a cool morning zephyr played. 
The knight found himself again at the spot where, three moons 
previously, he had boldly plunged into the water; his shield and 
armoiu' lay yet on the ground, and his spear was planted near, 
just as he had left them. However, he permitted himself no rest 
until the key to the enchantment should be found. 



CHAPTER III. 

Reinald now pursued his pathless way towards the interior of 
the wood. He penetrated for seven days, without fear or anxiety, 
the endless wilderness, and slept seven nights under the free air 
of heaven, so that his weapons rusted with the night-dew. On 
the eighth day he ascended a pinnacle of rock, from which, as 
from S. Gotthard, he looked down on inhospitable valleys. On 
one side opened a valley, covered with green vinca, and sur- 
rounded with high granite rocks, overgrown with hemlocks and 
mournful cypresses. In the distance, it appeared to him as if he 
saw a monument erected. Two marble pillars, of colossal height, 
with brazen tops and feet, supported a Doric roof, which rested 
against a wall of rock, and overhung an iron door, well provided 
with strong bolts and bars, and, for still greater security, with a 
padlock as big as a bushel. Not far from the portal, a black 
bull was feeding in the grass, and looking about with sparkling 
fiery eyes, as if appointed to guard the approach. 

Reinald doubted not that he had found the adventure of which 
his brother-in-law Ufo had warned him ; and immediately he 
resolved to undertake it, and slipped gently down from the rock 
into the valley. He approached within bow-shot of the beast 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



101 



before it appeared to notice him ; but it now sprang up suddenly, 
and ran savagely hither and thither, as if preparing for combat 
with the knight. Like an Andalusian bull, he snorted on the 
ground and raised clouds of dust ; stamped Avith his feet till the 
ground shook, and struck with his horns against the rocks, so 
that they fell off in splinters. 

The knight placed himself in an attitude of defence, and as the 
bull ran against him, he avoided the powerful horns by a dexter- 
ous turn, and struck so powerful a blow with his sword on the 
neck of the monster, that he expected to sever the head from the 
body, like the brave Scandenberg. Oh ! consternation ! the neck 
of the bull was invulnerable to steel and iron : the sword broke 
into pieces, and the knight retained only the hilt in his hand. 
He had nothing remaining for his defence, but a lance of maple- 
wood, with a double head of steel: but this also shivered at the 
second thrust, like a weak straw. The goring ox seized the 
weaponless young man with his horns, and tossed him high in 
the air like a light shuttlecock, waiting to seize him again, or to 
crush him under his feet. By good luck he fell between the out- 
spread branches of a wild pear-tree, which benevolently embraced 
him. Although all the ribs in his body appeared to crack, yet he 
retained sufficient recollection to cling tightly to the tree ; but 
the raging ox butted with his brazen brow so powerfully against 
the stem, that it became unrooted, and bent towards its fall. 

In the interval, as the murderous beast turned himself to take 
a run, in order to renew his powerful thrust, Reinald thought of 
the gifts of his brothers-in-law. Chance brought the paper with 
the three bear's hairs first to hand ; he rubbed them with all his 
strength, and instantly there trotted forth a frightful bear, which 
began a severe fight with the ox. The bear soon overcame him, 
strangled him, and tore him to pieces. When the hollow stomach 
was opened, there issued from it a frightful drake, which flew 
away with horrid cries. Reinald perceived that this enchanter 
mocked the victory which the bear had obtained, and thus took 
away the advantage of it ; he, therefore, seized immediately the 
three feathers, and rubbed them between his hands. Thereupon 
appeared a powerful eagle, high in the air, before which the faint- 
hearted drake squeezed himself into the bushes. The eagle 
hovered at an immeasurable height above him ; while the knight 
remarked, that he roused him and pursued him, till the wood 
became opener ; and when he could no longer conceal himself, he 
flew up, and directed his course straight to the pond. The eagle, 
however, pounced down from the clouds, seized and lacerated 
him with his powerful talons. In dying, he let a golden egg fall 
into the pond. The watchful Reinald knew how to meet this new 
deception: he suddenly rubbed the fish's scales between his 
hands — there arose a whale out of the water, which seized the 
egg in his wide jaws, and spit it out upon the land. The knight 



102 



POPULAR TALES. 



was heartily rejoiced at this, and delayed not to break the golden 
egg in two, with a stone. A little key fell out, which he recog- 
nised triumphantly, as the key to the enchantment. Swiftly he 
now hastened back to the iron door; the tiny key did not appear 
to be made for the gigantic padlock, yet he would make an 
attempt with it ; but scarcely did the key touch the lock when it 
sprang open — the heavy iron bolts pushed themselves back, and 
the steel door opened of its own accord. With a cheerful mind 
he descended into a gloomy grotto, in which seven doors led into 
seven different subterranean chambers, all splendidly embellished 
and magnificently lighted up with tall candles. Reinald tra- 
versed one after another, and entered, from the last, a cabinet, 
where he perceived a young lady, who reposed on a sofa in an 
imawakable magic slumber. 

After the knight Reinald had recovered from his first astonish- 
ment, he looked a little round the chamber, and saw near the 
sleeping lady an alabaster table covered with wonderful cha- 
racters. He presumed that the talisman was engraved thereon, 
which held all the enchantments of the wood in their strength. 
From mere indignation he closed his fist armed with the iron 
gauntlet, and struck it with vigour. Immediately the lovely 
sleeper shrank with horror, awoke, gave one fearful look at the 
table, and fell back in her confused slumber. Reinald repeated 
the blow, and all happened as before. Now he resolved to destroy 
the talisman ; but he had neither sword nor spear — nothing but 
two vigorous arms. With these he seized the magic table, and 
flung it from its high pedestal down upon the marble pavement, 
so that it broke to pieces. Suddenly the young lady woke again 
from her deadly slumber, and now, for the first time, on her 
third awakening, she perceived the presence of the young knight, 
who respectfully and courteously fell on one knee before her; 
yet, before he began to speak, she concealed her lovely face with 
her veil, and said, quite scornfully, " Away from me, shameful 
sorcerer ! even in the form of the most beautiful youth thou 
shalt neither deceive my eyes, nor impose upon my heart. Thou 
knowest my determination, leave me to my deadly sleep, to which 
thy magic has reduced me." 

Reinald perceived the error of the lady, therefore he allowed 
not this speech to astonish him, but replied, " Amiable lady, be 
not wroth, I am not the dreaded sorcerer who holds you here a 
prisoner ; but I am Count Reinald, called the Wonder Child ; see 
here the enchantment destroyed which held your senses en- 
chained." The lady peeped a little forth from under her veil, 
and when she saw the alabaster table destroyed, she marvelled at 
the daring deed of the young adventurer — looked kindly on him, 
and appeared pleased with him. She raised him in a friendly man- 
ner; and in offering him her hand she said, " Is it as you say, noble 
knight? then fulfil your work, and lead me out of this horrible 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



103 



cave, that I may behold the brightness of God's sun, if it is now 
day, or the golden stars in the nightly heavens." Reinald offered 
her his arm to conduct her through the seven splendid apart- 
ments through which he had entered. He opened the door, but 
without was Egyptian darkness, that could be felt as in the 
beginning of the creation, before the electric ray of light was 
kindled. All the tapers were extinguished, and the crystal chan- 
deliers shed no more their soft light down from the high dome 
of the basaltic vault. The noble pair groped long in the dark 
before they could find their way out of these intricate labyrinths, 
and saw the daylight glimmering through the distant mouth of 
an ill-shaped cavern. The disenchanted lady felt the quicken- 
ing balsamic power of all-invigorating nature, and breathed with 
delight the fragrance of the flowers which the warm zephyrs 
wafted to her over the blooming meadows. She sat down with 
the gentle knight on the grass, and he kindled with warm love 
for her, for she was lovely and beautiful as one of the Graces. 
Yet another passion tortured him almost more, and that was, 
the curiosity to learn who the lovely incognita was, and how- 
she had been enchanted in the wood. He begged her, cour- 
teously, to answer his questions, and the lady opened her rosy 
mouth, and spoke : — 

" I am Hildegard, the daughter of Radbod, prince of Pomerania 
Zornebock. The prince of Sorbia demanded me of my father in 
marriage, but, as he was a frightful giant and a heathen — besides 
that it was whispered he dealt much in black arts — he was 
rejected on the plea of my tender youth. Thereupon the pagan 
became so furious, that he made war on my good father, killed 
him in combat, and took possession of his territories. I had tied 
to my father's sister, the Countess of Vohburg, and my three 
brothers, all stately knights, were at that time out of the land, 
on their knightly travels. My abode could not remain concealed 
from the enchanter, and, as soon as he had possession of my 
father's lands, he resolved to carry me away ; and, by means of 
his magic skill, this was easy to him. My uncle, the Count, was 
a lover of the chase. I was accustomed often to accompany him, 
and all the knights of his court contended, on such occasions, to 
present me with the finest-moulded horse. One day an unknown 
equerry approached me with a noble white courser, and begged 
me, in the name of his lord, to mount the horse, and to condescend 
to receive it for my own. I inquired the name of his master, he 
excused himself from answering this question till I should have 
tried the horse, and on returning from the chase should have 
declared that I did not disdain the gift. I could not well reject 
this proposal ; besides, the horse was so beautfully moulded that 
he drew on himself the eyes of the whole court; gold and precious 
stones, and splendid embroidery, were lavished on the purple 
saddle-cloth ; a red silk bridle ran from the bit around the neck: 

K3 



104 



POITLAE TALES, 



bit and stirrups were of beaten gold, thickly set with rubies. 
I sprang into the saddle, and bad the vanity to be pleased with 
myself in the cavalcade. The movement of the noble horse was 
so easy and light, that he scarcely seemed to touch the ground 
with his hoof. Lightly he leaped ditches and hedges, and the most 
daring riders were unable to follow him. A white hart, which 
started near me in the chase, and which I pursued, led me far 
into the wood, and separated me from the followers of the hunt, 
in order not to lose myself, I left the stag, to return to the place 
of meeting ; but the horse refused to obey me. pranced, shook his 
mane, and became restive. I sought to soothe him, but imme- 
diately perceived with horror that the white courser under me 
had changed into a feathered monster: the fore-feet changed 
themselves into a pair of wings, the neck lengthened, a broad bill 
extended in front of the head : I saw under me a long-legged 
hippogrifT, which took a spring with me into the air, and, in less 
than an hour, transported me into this wood, where he alighted 
before the iron gates of an old castle. 

" My first horror, from which I have not even yet recovered, 
increased, when I perceived the equerry who had, in the morning, 
presented me with the white courser, and who now approached 
respectfully to help me from the saddle. Stupified with horror 
and fear, I allowed myself to be conducted in silence through 
a suite of state apartments, to a company of ladies in full 
dress, who received me as their mistress, and awaited my com- 
mands. All exerted themselves to wait upon me in the best 
manner, but no one would tell me where, and in whose power I 
was. I abandoned myself to a silent melancholy, which was in- 
terrupted in a few moments by Zornebock, the enchanter, who, 
in the form of a yellow gipsy, lay at my feet and implored my 
affections. I treated him as my heart prompted me to treat the 
murderer of my father. The barbarian was furious at his re- 
jection; fierce passions raged in his breast: I struggled with 
despair, defied his rage, and bid him fulfil his menace to destroy 
the palace and bury me under the ruins : but the sorcerer soon 
quitted me, and gave me. as he said, time to reflect. 

" At the end of a week he renewed his hated proposal ; I spurned 
him from me with contempt ; and he hastened, storming, out of 
the chamber. Soon after, the ground trembled under my feet, and 
the castle appeared to be precipitated into an abyss. I sank down 
on my sofa, and my senses left me. From this death-like slum- 
ber the terrible voice of the enchanter roused me : ' Awake,' said 
he, i beloved sleeper, from thy seven years' slumber, and tell me 
if beneficent time has lessened thy hatred for thy true paladin. 
Rejoice my heart with the least ray of hope, and this melancholy 
grotto shall change into the temple of joy.' I deigned to the 
shameful enchanter neither answer nor look, covered my face 
with my veil, and wept. My sorrow appeared to move him ; he 



THE THREE SISTERS. 



105 



begged, he prayed, he moaned aloud, and flung himself, like a 
worm, at my feet. At length his patience became exhausted ; he 
sprang up suddenly, and said, 1 Well, then, so let it be ; in seven 
years we vail speak together again ! ' Thereupon he lifted the 
alabaster table on the pedestal ; immediately an irresistible sleep 
fell on my eyelids, until the wretch again interrupted my repose. 
1 Unfeeling one ! ' said he to me. 1 if thou art still so savage against 
me, at least be not so against thy three brothers. My faithless 
equerry has discovered to them thy fate : but the traitor is 
punished. These unhappy men came with powerful armies to 
wrest thee out of my hand ; but my power was too great for 
them, and they deplore their rashness under different forms, in 
this wood.' So poor a lie, to which the sorcerer had recourse to 
overcome my firmness, embittered my heart yet more against 
him. Scorn sat on my lips, with the bitterest contempt. ' Un- 
happy one,' exclaimed the furious heathen, ' thy fate is decided, 
as long as the invisible powers obey this talisman ! ' Immedi- 
ately he pushed the magic alabaster table straight, and the magic 
sleep deprived me of life and feeling. You have, noble knight, 
awakened me from this deathlike slumber, through the destruc- 
tion of the talisman. Yet I comprehend not through what power 
you have been able to perform the deed, and what can restrain the 
magician from opposing you. Zornebock can no longer be alive, 
otherwise you wouldnot have laid hold of his talisman unpunished." 

When the lovely Hildegard ceased to speak Reinald took up 
the narration, and related to her his adventures. When he spoke 
to her of the three enchanted princes in the wood, who were his 
brothers-in-law, she was seized with great astonishment, for she 
now perceived that the tale of Zornebock was no lie, but truth. 
The knight was in the act of ending his history, when there arose 
amid the mountains great cries of joy and triumph. Soon after, 
three cavalcades of riders burst forth from the forest, at the head 
of which Hildegard recognised her brothers and Reinald his 
sisters. The enchantment of the forest was now dissolved. 
After mutual caresses and endearments, the whole party of the 
disenchanted quitted the horrible wilderness, and set out for the 
old forest castle. Expresses flew to the residence of the Count to 
announce the glad tidings of the return of his children. The 
court was then in deep mourning for the loss of Reinald, whom 
they wept as dead ; his parents believed that the enchanted forest 
had enclosed him for ever. The afflicted mother had no more 
consolation on earth ; and they were even then in the act of 
celebrating Reinald's obsequies. But the juggling Ricolini could 
not, formerly, more quickly transform his pantomimic theatre, 
than all things in the residence of the Count changed their form 
at this joyful news ; all now breathed again life and joy. 

In a few days the worthy parents had the delight of embracing 
their children and grandchildren, 



106 



POPULAR TALES. 



Among all the festivities of this happy return, the celebration 
of Reinald's marriage with the lovely Hildegard was the most 
brilliant. A whole year passed in every variety of joy and 
delight. 

At length the princes bethought themselves that a too long 
enjoyment of pleasure might deaden the manly courage and the 
prowess of their knights and squires ; the residence of the Count 
was also too small to contain conveniently so many households ; 
the three sons-in-law prepared, therefore, with their ladies, for 
departure. Reinald, the Wonder Child, never left his hoary 
parents again, but closed their eyes, like a pious son. Albert the 
Bear purchased the territory of Ascania, and founded the town of 
Bern ; Edgar the Eagle entered the land of Helvetia, under the 
shadow of the Alps, and built Aarburg, on a nameless river, 
which, however, was afterwards called from the town through 
which it runs. Ufo the Dolphin made an incursion into Bur- 
gundy, possessed himself of a portion of that kingdom, and named 
the conquered province Dauphiny. And as the three princes, in 
naming their towns and dynasties, made allusion to their en- 
chantment, so they also took their brute forms in the time of 
enchantment, as the symbol of their arms ; — thence comes it that 
Bern has a bear with a golden crown, Aarburg an eagle, and 
Dauphiny a sea-fish, in their escutcheons, to this day. And the 
costly pearls which on gala-days adorn the Olympus of the assem- 
bled goddesses of the earth, in our part of the world, are the store 
from the pond in the enchanted forest, and which formerly were 
contained in three linen sacks. 



( 107 ) 



RIOHILD A. 



l^pp^ICHILDA, the beautiful daughter of Gunderich, 
$lW))t$ Count of Brabant, was an only child; and at her 
^I^'tS^ birth, gvz&t feasts and rejoicings were held, and 
O^ife^S persons from all parts were present and partook 
^ s of the entertainments. Among others, a famous 
philosopher, by name Albert, was present, and took much interest 
in the little stranger. When he was about to take his departure 
the Countess begged of him a token of remembrance for her 
daughter. 

Albert struck his forehead and said, " You remind me well, 
noble Lady, that I have omitted to present your little one with a 
gift ; but let me alone a little, and tell me at what hour the baby 
was born." Then he shut himself up for nine days in a solitary 
apartment, that he might produce a curious performance, by 
which the little Richilda might remember him. When this skilful 
person had concluded his work, and observed that it had suc- 
ceeded well, he brought it in secret to the Countess, and disclosed 
to her all the virtues and secret effects of his work, and how it 
was to be made use of ; and desired her to teach her daughter 
when she grew up, its use and profit ; he then took a friendly 
farewell and rode off. The Countess, overjoyed at this gift, took 
the magic secret, and concealed it in the drawer, where she kept 
her jewels. The Count soon after died, and it was not long before 
his good Countess followed him ; and as she observed her latter 
hour approaching, she called her daughter aside, bade her dry 
her tears, and thus spoke her farewell : " I leave thee, beloved 
Richilda, at a time when motherly assistance is most needful to 
thee; but grieve not! the loss of a good mother shall be com- 
pensated to thee by a faithful friend and counsellor, who, if thou 
art wise and prudent, will guide thy steps. In the drawer, where 
my jewels are kept, is to be found a wonderful secret, which thou 
shalt receive after my decease. A highly learned philosopher, 
who sympathized greatly in the joy at thy birth, has composed it 
under a certain constellation, and confided it to me, to teach thee 
the use of it. This master-work is a metallic mirror set in a frame 
of solid gold. It has, as is evident, the properties of a common 
mirror, faithfully to give back all the figures which it receives. But 
for thee it also possesses this gift ; all that thou askest it will 



108 



POPULAR TALES. 



disclose in clear and living forms, as soon as thou hast uttered 
the words. But, take care not to ask counsel of it out of 
mere curiosity, or to please thy vanity; nor thoughtlessly de- 
mand of it the future fate of thy life. Guard this wonderful 
mirror as a friend worthy of regard, whom one would be afraid 
of tiring with useless questions, but in whom one would always 
find a faithful counsellor, in the most important affairs of life. 
Therefore, be wise and cautious in its use, and walk in the ways 
of piety and virtue ; then the polished mirror will not be clouded 
before thy face, by the poisoned breath of vice. When the dying- 
mother had ended her swan's song, she embraced the lamenting 
Richilda, and expired. 

The maiden felt deep in her heart the loss of her tender mother, 
clothed herself in mourning, and passed one of the most beautiful 
years of life in weeping, between the walls of a narrow convent, 
in the society of the worthy Canoness and the pious sisterhood, 
without once examining the temporal property of her mother, or 
looking into the secret mirror. By degrees, time softened this 
childish feeling of sorrow, her tears ceased, and as the maiden's 
heart could find no more occupation in the overflow of sorrow, 
she felt herself oppressed by weariness in her lonely cell. She 
often sought the audience-chamber, and found great pleasure in 
chatting with the friends and kinsmen of the nuns ; and the latter 
were so eager to see the innocent novice, that they pressed in 
troops to the grating, whenever the beautiful Richilda was in the 
audience-chamber. There were many stately knights among 
them, who made fine speeches to the unveiled boarder, and in 
these flatteries laid the first seeds of vanity, which here fell on no 
unfertile soil, but soon took root, and grew up. Richilda thought 
that she would be better outside in the open air, than in the 
cage behind the iron lattice ; she hastily forsook the cloister ; 
fixed the place of her court; appointed, for propriety, a matron 
as a guardian, and entered with much splendour into the great 
world. 

The fame of her beauty and modesty spread itself towards the 
four winds of Heaven. Many princes and counts came from dis- 
tant lands to make their court to her. The Tagus, the Seine, the 
Po, the Thames, and father Rhine, sent their heroic sons to Bra- 
bant, to do homage to the beautiful Richilda. Her palace seemed 
to be a fairy's castle; strangers enjoyed there the best reception, 
and failed not to requite the politeness of the charming possessor 
with the finest flatteries. No day passed in which the tilting 
course was not occupied by some well-armed knights, who caused 
their challenges to be proclaimed by their kings-at-arms, in the 
market-place and corner houses of the city ; whoever would not 
acknowledge the Countess of Brabant as the most beautiful 
woman among her contemporaries, or ventured to maintain the 
contrary, was challenged to appear in the lists, and support his 



RICHILDA. 



109 



assertion with weapons, against the champion of the beautiful 
Richilda. Usually no one replied to this; or if they wished to 
fight on a festival-day, and any knight allowed himself to be per- 
suaded to accept the challenge, and to dispute the prize for the 
beauty of the lady of his heart, it only ended in show; the polite- 
ness of the knights never permitted them to throw the Countess' 
champion from the saddle; they broke their lances, acknowledged 
themselves defeated, and the prize of beauty was awarded to the 
fair Richilda; an offering which the Countess always received 
with ladylike modesty. 

As yet she had never asked anything of her magic mirror ; 
she only used it as a common looking-glass, to examine her head- 
dress, and to see if her tirewoman had put it on becomingly. She 
had not hitherto allowed herself to put any question, either because 
no critical circumstance had yet happened, which required a 
counsellor; or because she was too timid, and feared that her 
question might be impertinent and silly, and thereby the polished 
mirror become clouded. The voice of flattery, however, constantly 
increased her vanity, and produced in her heart the wish to be in- 
deed, what report daily sounded loudly in her ears, she was. To a 
blooming and accomplished maiden, the question of her pleasing 
or disagreeable form is as weighty a problem, as that of the four 
last things to an orthodox preacher. Therefore it was not to be 
wondered at, that the beautiful Richilda desired information on a 
matter so interesting to her ; and from whom could she expect 
such secure and indubitable information, as from her incorruptible 
friend the mirror? After some reflection, she found this inquiry 
so just and reasonable, that she hesitated not to use her proper 
authority. She shut herself up one day in her room, stood before 
the magic mirror, and repeated this speech :— 

" Mirror shining, mirror bright, 
Golden mirror on the wall, 
Within the land of wide Brabant, 
Show me the fairest maid of all." 

Quickly she drew back the curtain, looked on the wall, and saw 
with delight her own figure, which the mirror had so often shown 
her unasked. Then her soul was highly rejoiced, her cheeks 
coloured deeper and her eyes sparkled with glee; but, alas, her 
heart was hard, proud, and arrogant, as the heart of Queen Vashti. 

The praises of her pleasing form, which she had before received 
with modesty and soft blushes, she now demanded as a tribute ; 
she looked down on all the maidens of the land with pride and 
arrogance, and if sometimes their beauty was praised, it went to 
her heart, and she pursed up her mouth, and fell into a bad humour. 
The courtiers, who soon discovered their mistress's weakness, 
flattered and dissembled shamelessly, calumniated the whole 
world of women, and declared that no lady beside their mistress 
was worth a doit in regard to beauty. Even the famed beauties 



110 



POPULAR TALES, 



of former ages, who bloomed many hundred years ago, were not 
spared, and were most unjustly and severely criticised. 

The beautiful Richiida was acknowledged in her court as the 
only and highest image of womanly beauty, and because by the 
testimony of the magic mirror she was indeed the most beautiful 
woman in Brabant, and possessed great wealth, even many cities 
and castles, high-born suitors were not wanting. She counted 
as many of them as did formerly Dame Penelope, and wished to 
encourage them with sweet hope as cunningly and artfully, as in 
later times did the British Queen Elizabeth. All the wishes that 
Henry's daughter in our days used to dream; — to be admired, 
flattered, adored, to stand foremost in the ranks of her com- 
panions, and to shine above all, like the lovely moon among the 
little stars ; to have a circle of admirers and worshippers around 
her, who were ready, according to the old fashions, to orler up 
their life for their lady, in the lists, to seek adventures at her 
command, and to conquer giants and dwarfs for her, — or, according 
to modern usage, to weep, to moan, to look up mournfully at the 
moon, to rave, to throw themselves from precipices, to rush into 
water, &c. &c. ; — all these dreams of giddy maidens took place in 
reality at the Countess Richilda's. Her charms had cost many 
young knights their lives, and the enthusiasm of secret love had 
reduced many unhappy princes to mere skin and bone. The 
cruel beauty was secretly delighted at these victims, whom her 
vanity daily slew, and the torments of these unfortunates pleased 
her more than the soft feelings of happy and virtuous love : her 
heart had till now only been sensible of a slight impression of a 
superficial passion ; she did not properly know to what this be- 
longed ; each sighing Damon stood before her, but according to 
the rules of hospitality, usually not longer than three days. 
"When a new comer took possession, the former inhabitant of her 
heart was coldly dismissed. The Counts of Artois, of Flanders, 
of Hennegan, of Namur, of Gelder, of Groningen, in short, all the 
seventeen Counts of the Netherlands (with some exceptions, of 
those who were already married, or who were quite grey-headed) 
courted the heart of the beautiful Richiida and desired her for a 
wife. 

The wise Aja found that her young mistress could not long 
continue such coquetry : her good reputation seemed to dimmish, 
and it was to be feared that the deceived suitors would revenge 
their insult on the beautiful prude. She therefore represented 
this to Richiida, and extorted from her a promise to choose a 
husband within three days. At this resolution, which was soon 
made openly known in the court, all the wooers were greatly 
rejoiced. Each candidate hoped the chance of love would favour 
him ; they agreed together to sanction the choice (whoever was 
favoured with it), and to maintain it with united hands. 

The strict Aja, by her well-intentioned importunity, had only 



RICHILDA. 



Ill 



succeeded in giving to the beautiful Richilda, tliree sleepless 
nights ; without the maiden, — when the third morning dawned, — 
being nearer to her choice than in the first hour. She had, within 
the term of three days, unceasingly mused on her list of wooers, 
examined, compared, separated, selected, rejected, selected again, 
again rejected, and ten times made her choice and ten times altered 
her mind; and by all these thoughts and meditations she got 
nothing but a pale countenance, and a pair of melancholy eyes. 
In affairs of the heart, the understanding is always a poor prattler, 
who, with its cold reasonings, as little warms the heart as a stove 
without a fire heats a room. The maiden's heart took no part in 
the deliberation, and refused its assent to all the motions of the 
speakers in the upper house, the head; therefore no choice could 
stand good. With great attention she weighed the birth, merits, 
possessions, and honour of her suitors ; but none of these honour- 
able qualities interested her, and her heart was silent. As soon 
as she took into consideration the pleasing forms of her wooers, 
it gave a soft accord. Human nature has not altered a hair's 
breadth in the half thousand years which have elapsed from the 
time of the beautiful Richilda to ours. Give a maiden of the 
eighteenth or of the thirteenth century a wise, clever man, in a 
word a Socrates, for a lover; place beside him a handsome man, 
an Adonis, Ganymede, or Endymion, and give her the choice ; you 
may lay a hundred to one, that she will turn coldly away from 
the former, and foolishly choose one of the latter. Just so the 
beautiful Richilda! Among her lovers were many handsome 
men ; it then remained to choose the handsomest ; time slipped 
away in these consultations, the court assembled in the drawing- 
room, the Counts and noble Knights came in full dress, awaiting 
with beating of heart the determination of their fate. 

The maiden found herself in no little embarrassment ; her heart 
refused (notwithstanding the sacredness of her promise) to decide. 
At last she thought there must be a path out of the wood; she 
sprang hastily from her sofa, stood before the mirror, and asked 
it— 

" Mirror shining, mirror bright, 
Golden mirror on the wall, 
Within the land of wide Brabant, 
Show me the finest knight of all." 

This question was not of the best, that is of the most virtuous, 
the most noble and faithful man, out only of the handsomest. 
The mirror answered as it had been asked ; as she drew back the 
silken curtain, there was presented to her view, on the surface as 
smooth as water, the figure of a stately knight, in full armour, 
but without his helmet His hair waved in chestnut-coloured 
locks from the top of his head ; his small and thick eyebrows 
imitated the form of the rainbow ; in his fiery eyes shone boldness 
and heroic courage, his cheeks, tinged with manly brown and red, 

L 



112 



POPULAR TALES. 



glowed with warmth and health. As soon as the maiden looked 
on this noble knight, all the sleeping feelings of love were 
awakened in her soul ; she drank from his eyes delight and rap- 
ture, and took a solemn vow, to give her hand to no other man. 
Now great wonder seized her, that the figure of this handsome 
knight should be quite unknown and strange to her ; she had never 
seen him at her court, although there was not a young cavalier 
in Brabant who had not sought her. She therefore carefully in- 
spected the marks of his armour and livery, stood a whole hour 
before the mirror, without turning her eyes from the attractive 
form which she looked at in it ; every feature, the whole attitude, 
and the least peculiarity, which she observed, were fixed in her 
memory. 

In the mean time, the suitors became impatient in the ante- 
chamber ; the ayah and the maiden's attendants waited till their 
mistress should come forth from her chamber. The maiden at 
last unwillingly drew down the curtain, opened the door, and 
when she saw the ayah, she embraced the worthy dame, and said 
with loving demeanour, " I have found him, the man of my heart ; — 
congratulate me, your loved one, — the handsomest man in Brabant 
is mine ! The holy Bishop Medardus, my patron, has appeared to 
me in a dream, and has shown me this husband, appointed for me 
by Heaven." This falsehood the cunning Richilda invented ; for 
she would not disclose the secret of the magic mirror, and beside her, 
no mortal knew it. The governess, highly rejoiced at the resolu- 
tion of her young mistress, eagerly asked who the happy prince was, 
chosen by Heaven to lead home the beautiful bride. All the noble 
maidens of the court pricked up their ears ; they soon turned over 
in their minds this and that valiant knight, and one might be 
heard whispering, somewhat loudly, in the ear of another, the name 
of the intended husband. But the beautiful Richilda, when she had 
somewhat recovered her spirits, opened her mouth and said, " It 
is not in my power to inform you of my betrothed's name, nor to 
say where he dwells ; he is not among the princes and nobles of 
my court, nor have 1 ever seen him ; but his form is imprinted on 
my soul, and when he comes to lead me home, I will not refuse 
him. 

At this speech, the wise ayah and sfll the ladies wondered not a 
little ; they supposed that the maiden had contrived this invention, 
to evade the necessary choice of a husband ; but she persisted in 
her resolution, to have no other spouse forced on her, than he to 
whom the Bishop Medardus had married her in her dream. The 
knights had, during this controversy, waited long in the ante- 
chamber, and would now be admitted to learn their fate. The 
beautiful Richilda stepped forward, made a speech with much 
dignity and courtesy, and concluded thus : " Suppose not, noble 
lords, that I speak to you with deceitful words; I will inform you 
of the figure and form of the unknown knight,-— in case any one can 



RICHILDA. 



give me notice who he is, and where he may be found.'* Here- 
upon she described the figure, from top to toe, and added ; — " His 
armour is golden, painted with azure ; on his shield is a black lion 
in silver, on a field strewn with red hearts ; and the livery of his 
sash and sword-belt is the colour of the morning dawn, peach- 
blossom and orange. 

When she was silent, the Count of Brabant, heir of her lands, 
took up the word and said, " We are not here, beloved cousin, to 
contend with you; you have the power and will to do what you 
please ; it is enough for us to know your intention honourably to 
dismiss us, and not further to deceive us with false hopes ; for 
this we pay you just thanks. But what relates to the noble 
knight, whom you have seen in a dream, and of whom you fancy 
that he is intended by Heaven for your husband, I may not conceal 
from you. He is well known to me, and is my vassal; for by 
your description of the marks of his armour and livery, he can 
be no other than Count Gombald of the Lion ; but he is already 
married, and, therefore, cannot be yours." 

At these words the Countess grew so faint, that she thought 
she should have fallen down; she had not supposed that her 
mirror would play her this trick, and show her a man whose 
lawful love she could not share ; also, she could not bear that the 
handsomest man in Brabant should wear any fetters but hers. 
Still the Countess asserted that her dream might, perhaps, have 
a concealed interpretation; at least, it seemed to indicate that 
she should not give her hand, at present, in any contract of 
marriage. The wooers all left together, some went this way, 
some that, and the Countess's court was at once solitary and 
desolate. 

Hundred-tongued fame, in the meanwhile, spread the strange 
news of the wonderful dream in every highway ; and it came to 
the ears of Count Gombald himself. This count was a son of 
Theobald, called the Brother-heart, because he was attached to 
his younger brother, Botho, with such sincere love, that he lived 
with him in constant concord, and allowed to his posterity all the 
prerogatives and possessions of a first-born. Both brothers dwelt 
together in one castle; their wives loved each other like sisters, 
and, because the elder brother had only one son, and the younger 
a daughter, the parents thought to bequeath their friendship to 
their children, and betrothed them in the cradle. The young pair 
were educated together, and as death early divided these heirs 
from the side of their parents, they found it written in their 
parents' last will, that no other choice remained to them but to 
marry. For three years they had been married, and lived after 
the example of their peaceful parents, in a happy marriage, when 
Count Gombald heard of the wonderful dream of the beautiful 
Richilda. Fame, which exaggerates everything, added, that she 
loved him so passionately, that she had taken a vow to go into 



114 POPULAR TALES. 

the cloister, because she coulclnor shai - his affections. Count Gom- 
bald had, until now, known the quiet joys of domestic happiness 
in a peaceful family, and with a Trite worthy of his love. But. 
suddenly, strange desires arose in his heart: quiet and content 
disappeared from it: it produced in him foolish wishes,, which he 
secretly nourished, in the sinful hope that death might, perhaps, 
relieve him of his wife, and set him at liberty. 

In a short lime, the image of the beautiful Richilda changed a 
once good and virtuous man. and made him capable of every vice. 
Vv'herever he went, the form of the Countess of Brabant hovered 
before his eyes : it nattered his pride to be the only man who 
had moved this proud beauty : and these heated fantasies painted 
the possession of her in such high colours, that his wife was 
thrown quite into the shade : he lost all love and affection for her, 
and only wished to be free from her. She soon perceived the 
coldness of her lord. and. in consequence, redoubled her tender- 
ness : but she could do nothing more to please 1dm: he was 
morose, sulky, and peevish; left her on every occasion, and 
travelled about between his castles, and in the woods, whilst the 
solitary one wept and moaned at home, so that it might have 
moved a very stone. 

One day he surprised her in a tit of overwhelming -arrow: 
" Wife," cried he. " why dost thou weep and groan ? What is this 
owl-screeching about, which so much displeases me, and which 
can be of no use either to thee or me?" — " Beloved lord,'" 
answered the gentle sufferer, ••'permit me my sorrow, since I 
have lost your love and favour, and do not know how I have 
deserved this dislike. If I have found grace in your sight, make 
known to me the cause of your displeasure, that I may see if 
I can amend it." Gombald found it was now time to act his part ; 
so, taking her hand with pretended cordiality, My good wife, !; 
said he. "you have not offended; still, I will not conceal from 
you what oppresses my heart, and this must not surprise you. I 
have scraples about our marriage : I think it is a sin which will 
not go unpunished, in this world or the next. We are married in 
a forbidden relationship, that of first cousins: which is almost a 
marriage between brother and sister, for which no absolution or 
dispensation is of any avail : this troubles my conscience night 
and day, and eats into my very soul." 

The good lady might oppose and object as much as she pleased, 
to quiet her lord's conscience: it was useless trouble. "Ah! 
beloved husband," said she. "if you have no pity for your un- 
happy wife, pity our innocent babe!" A tlood of bitter tears 
followed these words. But the iron breast of the wicked man 
felt not the seven- fold sorrow of his wife: he hastily left her, 
took his horse and rode on: bought a divorce with hard gold, 
and shut up his good faithful wife and her daughter in a cloister, 
where she grieved and mourned, until, at last, the angel of 



RICHILDA. 



115 



death released her from her sufferings. The Count rode to the 
nunnery, took the child, put it under the charge of the super- 
intendent of one of his castles, and gave her seven court dwarfs 
to wait upon her ; but he armed himself magnificently, for all his 
thoughts and cares were to obtain the beautiful Brabantine. 

With a joyful heart, he went to the court of the Countess 
Richilda; intoxicated with delight, he threw himself at her feet; 
and when she looked on the splendid man, for whom her heart 
had so long sighed, she felt indescribable pleasure, and from that 
hour sw r ore to the knight the vow of fidelity. In the sweet 
passion of joy. in the choicest delights, days and years passed 
along, like a happy day-dream. But this luxurious pair possessed 
too little philosophy to comprehend that a too great enjoyment of 
pleasure is the tomb of pleasure, and that the relish of life, taken 
in too strong doses, deprives it of refined taste and of charms. 
Imperceptibly the sensibility of the organs for the joys of life 
relax, all enjoyments become monotonous, and the most refined 
variety will at last become tame. Only virtuous joys are lasting, 
and of these they knew nothing. 

The Lady Richilda, according to her fickle temper, first felt 
this change, grew peevish, imperious, cold, and even jealous. 
Her lord no longer found comfort in his married state ; a certain 
spleen pressed on his soul, the gleams of love had faded from 
his eyes, and his conscience, of w r hich he had formerly made 
a hypocritical jest, began now to sting him in earnest. A scruple 
came over him for having so cruelly injured his first w ife ; he often 
thought of her with melancholy and even with affection, and, 
according to the saying, — "it bodes no happiness to the second 
marriage, when the late wife is often spoken of, "—disputes often 
arose between him and Lady Richilda, and he sometimes told her 
to her face, that she bred mischief. 

" We can no longer dwell together," he said one day to his 
wife, after a conjugal difference; — "my conscience urges me to 
expiate my guilt; I will make a pilgrimage to the holy sepulchre 
at Jerusalem, and try if I can there again find peace of heart." 
Richilda only faintly opposed this resolution, Count Gombald 
armed himself for the pilgrimage, made his will, took a lukewarm 
farewell, and departed. 

Before a year had passed away, news came to Brabant, that the 
Count had died in Syria, of the plague, without having had the 
consolation of confessing his sins at the holy sepulchre. The 
Countess received these tidings with great indifference, but, never- 
theless, outwardly observed the rules of good society, mourned, 
wept, clothed herself hi mourning weeds, according to the precepts 
of etiquette, and caused a splendid monument to be erected to her 
departed lord. An old spy on men has well observed, that young 
widows resemble a piece of green wood, which bums at one end 
while water drops out of the other. The heart of the Countess 

L3 



116 



POPULAR TALES. 



Richilda could not long remain unoccupied ; her morning dress 
set off her charms so well, that every one pressed to see the 
beautiful widow. Many knight-errants came to her court to try 
their fortune, and to seize on the rich prize ; she found worship- 
pers and admirers in crowds ; and the court flatterers were again, as 
regards the praise of her beauty, in full swell. This pleased the 
vain lady uncommonly well ; but because she wished to be con- 
vinced with greater certainty that the finger of time had diminished 
none of her charms, during fifteen years, she took counsel of her 
friend the mirror, with the usual speech. A shudder of horror 
passed over her, as she drew back the silken curtain, and her 
eyes fell on a strange form, beautiful as one of the graces, an 
angel in woman's form, full of loveliness and sweetest innocence ; 
but the form had no trace of resemblance to her. At first she 
found it difficult to believe that some misapprehension did not 
exist between the question and answer ; but this last hope soon 
vanished, and vexation and bitter disappointment filled her 
heart. 

The Lady Richilda, inconsolable at this discovery, formed a 
deadly hatred against the innocent beauty, who was in possession 
of the qualities she had arrogated to herself. She fixed the lovely 
Madonna face in her memory, and sought, with great eagerness, 
after its possessor. The discovery of this gave her little trouble, 
she learned very soon that, according to her description, her step- 
daughter Blanche, so called from her complexion, had taken 
from her the prize of beauty. Satan immediately put it into her 
heart to destroy this charming plant, which would have been an 
ornament to the garden of Eden. The cruel one, with this design, 
called her court physician Sambul to her, gave him a preserved 
pomegranate, put fifteen gold pieces into his hand, and said, 
" Prepare this apple for me, so that one half may be quite harm- 
less, but the other endued with deadly poison, so that whoever 
eats of it shall die in a few hours." The Jew joyfully stroked his 
beard, put the gold into his pocket, and promised to do what the 
wicked woman desired. He took a pointed needle, made three 
little holes in the pomegranate, poured into it a certain liquid ; 
and when the Countess had received the pomegranate, she mounted 
her horse, and trotted, with a few attendants, to her daughter 
Blanche, in the solitary castle where the maiden lived. She sent 
a messenger on before, to give notice that the Countess Richilda 
was advancing, to visit the maiden, and to weep with her over 
her father's loss. 

This message put the whole castle in an uproar. The fat 
duenna waddled up and down stairs, put all the brooms in motion, 
had everything nastily cleaned, cobwebs destroyed, the best 
chambers adorned, the kitchens prepared, scolded and urged the 
lazy servants to diligence and labour, bawled and commanded 
with a loud voice., like a pirate who perceives a merchantman in 



RICHILDA. 



117 



tlie distance ; but the maiden adorned herself modestly, dressed in 
the colour of innocence ; and when she heard the trampling of 
horses, she flew to her mother, and received her respectfully, and 
with open arms. At the first glance, the Countess perceived that 
the maiden was seven times handsomer than the copy, which she 
had seen in the mirror, and withal discreet, gentle, and intelligent. 
This oppressed her envious heart ; but the serpent concealed her 
viper's poison deep in her bosom, talked hypocritically with her, 
complained of the hard-hearted father, who, all the time that he 
lived, had refused her the pleasing sight of the maiden, and pro- 
mised, for the future, to embrace her with a mother's love. Soon 
the seven little dwarfs prepared the table, and spread a lordly 
repast. For dessert, the superintendent placed before them the 
most costly fruits out of the garden. Richilda tasted them, found 
them not sufficiently pleasant, and asked her servants for a pome- 
granate, with which, as she said, she was accustomed to end each 
meal. The servants immediately handed it her on a silver waiter ; 
she cut it up neatly, and begged the beautiful Blanche to take 
half as a token of her kind disposition towards her. As soon as 
the pomegranate was eaten, the mother, with her attendants, set 
off, and rode home. Soon after their departure, the maiden had 
a pain at her heart, her rosy cheeks faded, all the limbs of her 
tender body shook, all her nerves were convulsed, her lovely eyes 
grew dim, and at last slumbered in the sleep of death. 

Ah ! what sorrow and heart-grief arose within the walls of the 
palace at the death of the beautiful Blanche, who was plucked 
like a hundred-leaved rose, by a thievish hand, in its most beau- 
tiful bloom, because it was the ornament of the garden. The fat 
duenna shed torrents of tears, like a swelled sponge, which, by a 
hard squeeze, gives out its hidden moisture all at once. But the 
ingenious dwarfs prepared for her a wooden coffin with silver 
plates and handles, and, that they might not at once be robbed of 
the sight of their beloved mistress, they made a glass window to 
it ; the servants prepared a shroud of the finest Brabant linen, 
wrapped the corpse up in it, put the maiden's crown, and a wreath 
of fresh myrtle on her head, and carried the coffin, with much 
sorrow, into the chapel of the castle, where father Messner per- 
formed the requiem, and the little bell tolled the mournful funeral 
knell, from morning till midnight. 

In the mean time Lady Richilda, well pleased, reached her home. 
The first thing she did was to repeat her question to the mirror, 
and nimbly she drew back the curtain. With inward joy, and a 
look of triumph, she again saw her own image reflected; but on 
the metallic surface, great marks of rust, the plague-spots of sin, 
were here and there to be seen, which disfigured the clear polish 
as much as smallpox scars do a young lady's face. " What a 
pity i" thought the Countess to herself; "it is better it should 
happen to the mirror than to my skin ; it is still useful, and has 



118 



POPULAR TALES. 



again assured me of my property." In danger of losing a good, 
one commonly first learns to prize its worth. The beautiful 
Richilda had formerly often allowed years to pass without taking 
counsel of the mirror with regard to her beauty, now she let no 
day pass without doing so. She enjoyed, several times, the plea- 
sure of bringing her figure as an offering to the idol; but one day, 
on drawing back the curtain, — oh ! wonder upon wonder ! — again 
there stood before her eyes in the mirror the form of the charming 
Blanche. At this sight, the jealous woman fell into a fainting- 
fit ; but she quickly collected her energies, in order to investigate 
whether a false fancy had not deceived her ; but she again received 
ocular demonstration. 

She immediately brooded over a new wickedness. Sambul, the 
physician, was summoned, to whom the Countess said, in an angry 
tone, " Oh, thou shameful deceiver ! thou rascally Jew ! Dost 
thou despise my commands, that thou darest to mock me ? Did I 
not command thee to prepare a pomegranate, that its enjoyment 
should kill, and thou hast put into it vital power and the balsam 
of health ? Thy Jew's beard and ears shall atone to me for this." 
Sambul, the physician, terrified at this speech of his enraged mis- 
tress, answered and said, " Oh woe is me ! What has happened? 
I know not, worshipful lady, how I have deserved your anger. 
What you commanded me I carefully performed ; if the power has 
failed, I know not the reason." The lady seemed somewhat soft- 
ened, and continued, " This time I forgive thy failing, on condition 
that thou preparest a sweet-scented soap, which shall certainly 
accomplish what the pomegranate failed to do." The physician 
promised to do his best, and she again put fifteen gold pieces into 
his pouch, and left him. 

After the course of some days, the physician brought to the 
Countess the murderous composition ; she immediately dressed 
her nurse, an old woman, as a pedler with hardware, gave her 
fine thread, needles, sweet-scented pomatums, smelling-bottles, 
and marble soap balls, with red and blue veins, in her box ; bade 
her go to her daughter Blanche, put the poisoned ball into her hand ; 
and for this she promised her great reward. This false woman 
came to the maiden, who suspected no deceit, allowed herself to 
be persuaded by the wicked talker to handle the soap, which 
would preserve the beauty of her skin to old age, and to make a 
trial of it without the knowledge of the duenna. The wicked 
stepmother, in the meanwhile, eagerly consulted the rusty mirror, 
and expected, from its condition, that her plot must have suc- 
ceeded; the rust-spots had in one night spread themselves over 
the surface of the mirror, so that, at her inquiries, only an obscure 
shadow appeared on the surface, of which it was impossible to 
distinguish the form. The loss of the mirror went to her heart ; 
still she believed what fame reported, that she was the first beauty 
in the land, and she did not think she had purchased it too dearly. 



RICHILDA. 



119 



For some time the vain widow enjoyed this imaginary pleasure 
with secret content, till a strange knight came to her court, who, 
on the way, had called at the Countess Blanche's castle, and had 
found her not in the grave, but at her toilet, and, struck with her 
beauty, had chosen her for the lady of his heart. Because he was 
very much attached to the young Countess of Brabant, and wished 
to light for her in a tournament, (not knowing that the mother 
was jealous of the daughter,) heated with wine, at a feast, he 
threw his iron gauntlet on the table, and said, " Whoever does 
not acknowledge the Lady Blanche of the Lion as the most beau- 
tiful woman in Brabant shall take up this gauntlet as a token 
that he will break a lance with me the next day." At this thought- 
lessness of the Gascon, the whole court was highly scandalized ; 
they secretly reproached him as Master Dunce and Sir Great- 
loaf. Richilda grew pale at the news that Blanche still lived ; 
the challenge was a stab to her heart ; yet she forced herself to a 
gracious smile, and approved of the match, hoping that the knights 
of her court would take up the gauntlet for her. But when no 
one stepped forward to espouse the quarrel — for the stranger had 
a bold look, and was very strongly made — her face became so 
sorrowful, that displeasure and affliction were easily read in it.' 
This moved her faithful master of the horse so much, that he 
picked up the iron gauntlet. But when the combat began, the 
following day, the Gascon gained the victory, after a valiant 
course, and received knightly thanks from the Countess Richilda, 
who, however, was ready to die of indignation. 

In the first place, she made the physician Sambul feel her dis- 
pleasure. He was thrown into prison, put into chains, and, 
without farther examination, the severe woman had his venerable 
beard plucked out, hair by hair, and both ears cut off. After the 
rirst storm had blown over, and the cruel one remembered that 
her daughter Blanche would still triumph over her if she did not 
succeed in putting her to death by stratagem, (for the father's 
will had deprived her of all power over the daughter,) she wrote 
a letter to the daughter, so tenderly, and rejoiced so like a mother 
at her recovery, that her heart seemed to have dictated every 
word. This letter she gave to her confidant, the nurse, to take to 
the imprisoned physician, with a small piece of paper, on which 
these words were written : " Shut up death and destruction in 
this letter for the hand that opens it. Take care not to deceive 
me the third time, as thou lovest thy life." Sambul, the Jew, 
long deliberated on what he should do. At last the love of life 
prevailed, and he promised to obey. The Countess sent the 
letter by a messenger on horseback, who, on his arrival, was to 
make many grimaces, as if the letter contained wonderful things, 
and also he was not to say whence he came. The maiden, de- 
sirous to learn the contents, broke open the seal, read a few 
lines, and fell back on the sofa, shut her light blue eyes, and 



120 



POPULAR TALES. 



expired. From that time the murderous stepmother heard no 
more of her daughter ; and although she often sent spies, they 
brought her back no other message than that the maiden had not 
again awoke from her death-slumber. 

Thus was the beautiful Blanche, by the artifices of this hateful 
woman, three times dead and three times buried. After the 
faithful dwarfs had buried her the first time, and masses had been 
performed, they, with the weeping servants, kept constant watch 
by the grave, and often looked through the window into the coffin, 
to enjoy the sight of their beloved mistress, till corruption should 
destroy her form. But, with wonder, they perceived, that after a 
few days, her white cheeks were tinted with a faint blush, the 
purple of life again began to glow on her faded lips, and soon the 
maiden opened her eyes. When the watchful servants observed 
this, they joyfully took the lid off the coffin; the lovely Richilda 
sat up, and wondered to see herself in a grave, and her attendants 
in mourning around her. She quickly left this horrible place, 
and returned, like Eurydice, from the realm of shades, with totter- 
ing knees, to the reviving light of day. Instead of the poison, 
which he ought to have put into the pomegranate, Sambul had 
only tinged the half with a narcotic essence, which deprived of 
sensation, without destroying the body. The second time he did 
the same with the soap-ball, only that he increased the portion of 
opium, so that the maiden did not awake at the same time as 
before, and the dwarfs fancied that she was really dead ; but after 
watching for some days with great anxiety, she, to the joy of all 
her faithful attendants, again awoke. 

The maiden's guardian angel saw the danger which menaced 
the life of her ward, as the fear of death might make the physician 
resolve really to accomplish the knavish trick of poisoning her. 
Therefore, he slipped invisibly into the prison, and began a pow- 
erful contest in the Jew's soul, conquered him, after a severe 
strife, and extorted from him the resolution to devote his neck to 
his conscience, as he had formerly done his beard and both ears. 
By means of his chemical knowledge, he concentrated his sleepy 
liquor into a volatile salt, which was dissolved in the open air, 
and spread abroad ; with this he strewed the letter to the beau- 
tiful Blanche, and as she read it the atmosphere received a 
stunning property, and she inhaled the refined spirit of poppies. 
The effect of it was so powerful, that the torpidity of the body 
lasted longer than before, and the impatient duenna, quite despair- 
ing of the reanimation of her young mistress, insisted on having 
the requiem performed. 

Whilst the attendants were occupied with this mournful solem- 
nity, a young pilgrim approached, went into the chapel, knelt 
before the altar at matins, and performed his devotions. He was 
called Godfrey of Ardennes, who, in performance of a vow, visited 
many holy places and churches, and w as now on his way through 



RICHILDA. 121 

Brabant. When the pious pilgrim had performed his devotions, 
and, according to his custom, placed a small gift in the alms-box, 
he asked the Brother Sacristan why the chapel was hung with 
black, and what the grief of the whole castle meant? The latter 
related to him all that had happened to the beautiful Blanche 
through the wicked hatred of her stepmother. At this Godfrey 
was much surprised, and said, " Is it permitted to see the corpse 
of the maiden ! Lead me to the grave. If God will, I can call 
her back to life, if indeed her soul still be in her. I carry with 
me a relic from our holy father at Rome, which destroys enchant- 
ment, and resists all other attacks but those of nature. 

The Sacristan quickly called the watchful dwarfs ; and when 
they heard the pilgrim's words, they rejoiced very much, led him 
to the grave, and Godtrey was charmed at the face of the lovely 
alabaster form, which he saw through the window in the coffin. 
The lid was taken off, he bade the sorrowful servants, except 
the dwarfs, go out, brought forth his relic, and laid it on the heart 
of the corpse. In a few moments the torpidity disappeared, and 
soul and life returned into the body. The maiden wondered at 
the handsome youth who was near her; and the rejoiced dwarfs 
considered the wonder-worker as a very angel from heaven. God- 
frey told the restored one who he was, and she informed him of 
her fate, and of the persecutions of her cruel stepmother. " You 
will not," said Godtrey, " escape the efforts of the poisoner if you 
do not follow my counsel. Abide still, a short time, in this grave, 
that it may not be rumoured about that you live. 1 will accom- 
plish my pilgrimage, and soon come back, to take you to my 
mother in Ardennes, and then I will finish by avenging you on 
your murderess." 

This advice pleased the lovely Blanche well ; the noble pilgrim 
left her, and spoke without, to the attendants who crowded around 
him, with feigned words, — " The corpse of your mistress will 
never again arise ; the fountain of life is dried up ; all is lost — all 
is dead." But the faithful dwarfs, who knew the truth, kept the 
secret, privately provided the maiden with food and drink, watched 
round the grave as before, and awaited the return of the pious 
pilgrim. Godfrey made haste to reach Ardennes, embraced his 
tender mother, and, as he was tired with his journey, he early 
retired to rest, and quickly fell asleep, with pleasant thoughts of 
the maiden Blanche. Early the next morning, Godfrey armed 
himself like a knight, assembled his horsemen, took leave of his 
mother, and set off. When he had accomplished his journey, and 
at midnight heard the bell toll in the castle of the beautiful 
Blanche, he jumped from his horse, put his pilgrim's dress over 
his armour, and went into the chapel. The watchful dwarfs had 
no sooner perceived the kneeling pilgrim at the altar, than they 
hastened to the grave, to make known the good news to their 
mistress. She threw off her shroud; and, as soon as the mass 



122 



POPULAR TALES. 



was over, and sacristan and clerks had hastened from the cold 
church to their warm beds, the charming maiden jumped up out 
of the grave, with a joyous heart. But when she found herself 
in the arms of a young man, who wished to lead her thence, fear 
and terror came over her, and she said, with a bashful counte- 
nance, " Think well of what you do, young man ; ask your heart 
if your intentions be pure and sincere ; if you disappoint the con- 
fidence that I place in you, know, that the vengeance of Heaven 
will pursue you." The knight answered discreetly, " The holy 
Virgin be witness to the purity of my intentions, and may the 
curse of Heaven strike me, if there be a guilty thought in my 
soul ! " 

Then the maiden sprang with confidence on a horse, and God- 
frey led her safe to Ardennes to his mother, who received her 
with the tenderest affection, and took as much care of her as if 
she had been her own beloved daughter. The soft sympathetic 
feelings of love were soon awakened in the hearts of the young 
knight and the lovely Blanche; the wishes of the good mother 
and of the whole court conspired in wishing the union of this 
noble pair, sealed by the holy rite of marriage. 

But Godfrey, in the midst of the preparations for marriage, left 
his residence, and went to Brabant, to the Countess Richilda, who 
was still occupied with her second choice ; and, as she now had 
no mirror of which to take counsel, she had never come to any 
conclusion. As soon as Godfrey of Ardennes appeared at the 
court, his fine figure so drew on him the eyes of the Countess, 
that she gave him the preference above all the other nobles. He 
called himself the Knight of the Grave, and this was the only 
thing Lady Richilda found to object to ; she wished he had a 
more pleasing surname, for life had still many charms for her, 
and she always, with horror, cast away all thoughts of the grave. 
She explained it to herself that the surname of the knight of 
Ardennes meant the holy grave, and signified that he had made a 
pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and was a knight of the Holy Sepulchre ; 
and so she acquiesced in it without farther inquiry. Yvhen she 
had held a consultation with her heart, she found that, among the 
assembled knights who came and went, Knight Godfrey held the 
first rank. She knew how, by art, to revive her charms, and to 
conceal those that were faded, and to adorn her head with the 
finest Brabant tissues. She omitted not to make the most alluring 
advances to her favourite, and to charm him by every art in her 
power. 

With feigned enthusiasm, Godfrey, one day, kneeling at her 
feet, addressed the Countess and said, " Cease, beloved cruel one, 
to tear my heart by your powerful charms, and to awake sleeping 
wishes, that confuse my brain ; love without hope is worse than 
death." Sweetly smiling, Richilda raised him with her swan- 
white arms, and answered him with mild persuasion : « Poor 



RICHILDAi 123 

hopeless one, what disheartens 3*011? Are yon so unlearned in tlie 
sympathies of love, which agitate my heart, as not to perceive or 
care for them ? If the language of the heart is unintelligible to you, 
take the confession of love from 11137 mouth. What hinders us for 
the future to unite the fate of our lives?" — " Ah !" sighed Godfrey, 
" your goodness enraptures me; but you know not the vow 
which binds me, to receive no wife but from the hand of my 
mother, and not to leave this good mother, till I have performed 
a child's last duties, and closed her eyes. Could you resolve to 
quit your court and follow me to Ardennes, my lot would be the 
happiest on earth."' 

The Countess did not take long to consider ; she agreed to all 
that he desired. The proposal to leave Brabant did not much 
please her, nor the stepmother either, whom she thought a 
troublesome addition ; but love overcame all. With great celerity 
was the procession prepared, the persons of the glittering train 
appointed, among whom appeared the court physician Sambul, 
although his beard and both ears were wanting. The cunning 
Richilda had loosened his fetters, and again graciously accorded 
to him the former honour of favourite ; for she thought to make 
use of him, to send the stepmother quickly out of the world, and 
then to return with her husband to Brabant. 

The worthy mother received her son and the supposed daughter- 
in-law, with courtly etiquette, seemed highly to approve the 
choice of the Knight of the Grave, and everything was put in 
readiness for a marriage festival. The appointed day arrived, and 
the Lady Richilda 3 arrayed like the queen of the fames, entered 
the hall, and wished that the hours had wings. Then came a 
page, and with a sorrowful air whispered into the bridegroom's ear. 
Godfrey clasped his hands, and said with a loud voice, "Unhappy 
youth ! who will on thy wedding-day stand for thee in the row of 
brides, since thy beloved has been murdered by a cruel hand ?" 
Then he turned to the countess and said, " Know, beautiful Ri- 
childa, that I have portioned twelve maidens, who should go up to 
the altar with me, and the most beautiful has been murdered by the 
- jealousy of an unnatural mother; say, what revenge does this crime 
deserve?" Richilda, angry at an event which would delay her wishes, 
or at least diminish the joy of the day, said with indignation, " Oh ! 
the horrid deed ! The cruel mother deserves to stand in the row of 
brides, with the unhappy youth, in the place of the murdered, in 
red-hot iron slippers, which will be a balsam for his wounded 
heart, for revenge is sweet as love." — "Yon decide aright," 
replied Godfrey. " It shall be so." The whole court approved 
the righteous sentence of the Countess, and the wits presumed to 
say, that the queen of rich Arabia, who had travelled to Solomon 
to fetch wisdom, could not have have spoken better. 

At this moment, the folding doors of the next chamber, where 
the altar was prepared, flew open ; there stood the innocent angel 

M 



124 



POPULAR TALES. 



form, Lady Blanche, adorned with costly bridal ornaments. Slie 
leant on one of the twelve maidens, when she perceived the 
dreaded stepmother, and timidly cast down her eyes. Richilda's 
blood froze in her veins ; she sank on the ground as if struck 
by lightning, her eyes grew dim, and she fell down in a deep 
swoon. But, by the exertions of the courtiers and ladies, she 
again returned to consciousness against her will. Then the 
Knight of the Grave, read her a lecture, every w r ord of which 
smote her soul, and he then led the beautiful Blanche to the altar, 
where the Bishop, in his pontifical robes, married the noble pair, 
and afterwards the twelve dowered maidens to their beloved. 
When the ceremony was over, the bridal procession went into the 
dancing-hall. The skilful dwarfs had in the mean time, with great 
care, prepared a pair of steel slippers, put them in the fire, and 
made them hot. Then Gunzalin, the strong Gascon knight, 
stepped forward, and asked the poisoner to dance, to begin the 
bridal festival, and though she would willingly have declined, 
neither prayers nor resistance were of any avail. He embraced 
her with his powerful arm, the dwarfs put on the red-hot slippers, 
and Gunzalin dragged her down the hall, in so rapid a dance, 
that the very floor smoked, and the musicians blew so heartily 
that all her groans and cries of pain were drowned in the noisy 
music. After endless twirls and circles, the active knight turned 
the heated dancer out of the hall, dow r n the staircase, into a well- 
guarded prison, where the wicked sufferer had time and leisure 
for repentance. But Godfrey of Ardennes and Blanche, his fair 
and innocent bride, lived in peace and happiness to a good old 
age, and their descendants long flourished prosperously after 
them. 



( 12o ) 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 




JOUSIN ROLAND had, as all the world knows, con- 
ducted the wars of his uncle, the Emperor Charles, 
with glory and success, and had done immortal 
deeds, recited by poets and romance singers, until 
Ganelon the traitor deprived him of the victory over 
the Saracens, and at the same time of life, at Roncesvalles, at the 
foot of the Pyrenees. Of what avail was it to the hero that he 
had slain the son of Anak, the giant Ferracutus, — the insolent 
Syrian, of the race of Goliath, since he still must succumb to the 
sabre-strokes of the unbelievers ! against whom his good sword 
Duridana could not protect him this time ; for he had run 
through his heroic career, and was now at its close. Deserted 
by all the world, he lay among the heaps of slain, grievously 
wounded, and tormented with burning thirst. In this sad con- 
dition, he collected all his strength, and sounded three times his 
wonderful horn, to give Charles the concerted sign that he was in 
the last extremity. 

Although the Emperor, with his army, was encamped at eight 
miles' distance from the battle-field, he yet recognised the sound 
of the wondrous horn, dismissed the feast (to the great chagrin of 
his courtiers, who scented a dainty pasty which was just then served 
up), and caused his army to set forth immediately to the succour 
of his nephew. It was then, however, too late ; since Roland 
had already breathed out his heroic soul. The Saracens, how- 
ever, rejoiced in their victory, and gave to their general the 
honourable title of " Malek al RafYer," or the victorious king. 

In the confusion of the fight, the shield and armour bearers of 
the brave Roland had become separated from their lord, and had 
lost sight of him, when he flung himself into the midst of the 
enemies' squadrons. When the hero fell, and the dispirited army 
of the Franks sought safety in flight, most of them were hewn 
down. Only three out of the multitude succeeded, by swiftness 
of foot, in escaping from death or slavish chains. The three 
comrades in misfortune fled far into the mountains, among un- 
trodden places, and looked not behind them in their flight ; since 
they believed Death pursued them with hasty feet. Wearied 
with thirst and the heat of the sun, they lay down to rest under 
a shady oak ; and, after they had breathed a little, they took 
counsel together what they should now do, Andiol, the sword- 



12G 



POPULAR TALES, 



bearer, first broke the silence, which the hurry of the night and 
the fear of the Saracens had imposed on them. 

" What counsel, brothers?" asked he. " How shall we reach 
the army, without falling into the hands of the unbelievers ; and 
what road shall we follow ? Let us make an attempt to force our 
way through these wild moimtains ; on the other side of them 
are, I believe, the Franks, who will certainly conduct us to the 
camp." — " Thy proposition would be good, companion,'* answered 
Amarin, the shield-bearer, " if thou wouldst give us the wings of 
eagles, to transport us over the wall of steep rocks ; but with these 
wearied legs, from which hunger and the sun's power have con- 
sumed the marrow, we shall certainly not climb the cliffs which 
separate us from the Franks. Let us first find a spring to 
quench our thirst, and to fill our gourd, and afterwards slay a 
deer, that we may eat : then we will spring over the rocks like 
light-footed chamois, and soon find a way to the encampment of 
Charles."' Sarron, the third squire, who was wont to bear the 
spurs of the Knight Roland, shook his head and said, " As con- 
cerns the stomach, comrade, thy counsel is not bad ; but both 
propositions are dangerous for our necks. Do you imagine that 
Charles would feel grateful to us if we returned without our good 
lord, and did not even bring back his costly armour which Wag 
confided to us ? If we should kneel at his throne, and say, 
' Roland is fallen ! ' and he should answer, ' Very sad is this 
news; but where have you left his sword Duridana? 5 what 
wouldst thou answer, Andiol ? Or should he say, £ Squires, where 
have you his mirror-polished steel shield: ' what wouldst thou 
reply, Amarin I Or should he inquire for the golden spurs, with 
which he invested our lord when he dubbed him Knight, must 
I not keep silence in shame?" — "Well remembered," replied 
Andiol ; " thy understanding is as clear as Roland's shield, as 
penetrating, bright, and sharp as Roland's sword. Vie will not 
return to the camp of the Franks." 

Amongst these counsels night had approached; no star glis- 
tened in the clouded heavens ; no zephyr awoke. In the wide 
desert the stillness of death reigned around, unbroken, save by 
the occasional croak of some night-bird. The three fugitives 
stretched themselves on the turf under the oak, and thought by 
sleep to cheat the ravenous hunger which the severe fast of the 
long day had awakened; but the stomach is a relentless creditor, 
who is not willing to give credit even for four-and-twenty hours. 
Notwithstanding their weariness, hunger permitted them no sleep, 
although they had taken their shoulder-belts for girdles, and 
drawn them as tight as possible. When, by way of passing the 
time, they began again, in their sadness, to converse, they per- 
ceived, through the bushes, a small distant light, which they at 
first considered to be the exhalation from a sulphureous marsh; 
but when, after some time, this same fight neither changed its 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



127 



appearance nor its position, they came to a resolution to seek 
more closely into the cause. They left their quarters under the 
oak, and after they had overcome many difficulties, fallen in the 
darkness over many stones, and run their heads against many 
branches, they arrived in a cleared spot before an upright wall of 
rock, where, to their great joy, they found a saucepan on a trivet 
over a fire. The bright ascending flames discovered to them at 
the same time the entrance to a cave, over which hung down 
branches of ivy, and which was closed by a strong door. Andiol 
approached and knocked, imagining that the inhabitant might 
perhaps be a pious, hospitable hermit. But he heard a woman's 
voice from within, which asked, " Who knocks ; who knocks 
at my house?"' — " Good woman," said Andiol, " open to us the 
door of your grotto; three wandering travellers wait here on the 
threshold, and are faint with hunger and thirst.*' — " Patience," 
answered the voice from within, " let me first put my house in 
order, and prepare it for the reception of my guests. The lis- 
tener at the door heard then a great rustling within, as if the 
whole house were set in order and scoured. He ceased for an 
interval, as long as his impatience permitted; but, as the mistress 
of the house did not seem to put an end to her cleaning, he 
knocked again at the door after a soldierly fashion, and desired 
to be admitted, with his companions. The voice again answered 
softly, " I hear, but allow me time to put on my dress, that I may 
be fit to appear before my guests. Meanwhile, stir the fire that 
the pot may boil well, and eat none of the broth." 

Sarron, who had ever been accustomed in Knight Roland's 
kitchen to peep into the pot, had, from natural instinct, already 
undertaken the office of keeping up the fire ; he had also pre- 
viously examined the pot, and made a discovery which did not 
quite please him. For when he raised the lid and dipped in the 
meat-fork, he drew forth a hedgehog, which cured his stomach of 
all its impetuous cravings. He did not, however, reveal this dis- 
covery to his companions, in order that, when the broth should 
be served up, he might not deprive them of their appetite. 
Amarinhad fallen asleep through weariness, and had almost slept 
enough before the inhabitant of the grotto had finished her toilet. 
On awaking, he joined himself to the noisy Andiol, who was 
making conditions for admission with the proprietress of the cave, 
in a boisterous dispute. When at last all was adjusted, she had 
unluckily mislaid the house-door key, and as, in her great hurry, 
she had also overthrown her lamp, she could not find it again. 
The famished wanderers thus were compelled to exercise an 
already tried patience until, after a long delay, the key was at 
length found, and the door opened. But a new delay occurred to 
prove the resignation of the strangers. Scarcely was the door 
half opened, when a great black cat sprang out, with eyes 
emitting fire ; immediately the mistress of the house shut the 



128 



POPULAR TALES, 



door to and bolted it carefully, scolding and abusing the bois- 
terous guests who had disturbed her dwelling, and had made away 
with her beloved pet animal. "Catch my cat! you creatures," 
screamed she from within, " or don't take it into your heads to 
pass my door." 

The three comrades looked hesitatingly on each other as to 
what they were to do. " The witch!" murmured Ancliol between 
his teeth, " has she not mocked us long enough, that she now 
scolds and threatens ? Shall a woman befool three men ? By the 
shade of Roland, that shall not be ! Let us break down the 
door, and quarter ourselves here like good soldiers." Amarin 
agreed; but the wise Sarron said, " Bethink you, brothers, of 
what you do ; the attempt may have an evil issue ; I suspect there 
are wonderful things here ; let us punctually obey the commands 
of our hostess ; if our patience does not tire, her humour for 
jeering us will tire. This good counsel was taken, and imme- 
diately a general chase for Grimalkin began, but he had flown 
into the wood, and was not to be discovered in the dark night. 
For, although his eyes sparkled as brightly as the eyes of the 
pet cat of Petrarch, whose light served the poet as a lamp, by 
which to inscribe an immortal sonnet to Laura, — the Pyrenean 
Grimalkin appeared to have the humour of his mistress to jeer 
the three wanderers, and either blinked studiously with his eyes, 
or turned them so that they did not betray him. Yet the wily 
Sarron knew how to catch him. He understood the art of mewing 
so well, that the anchorite of the wood, who had taken refuge in 
an oak-tree, was deceived by it, and immediately replied. 

As soon as the miauling cat betrayed himself by his voice, the 
ambushed squire was at hand, surprised him and brought the 
entrapped fugitive in triumph to the entrance of the cave in the 
rock, which was now no longer blockaded. Highly delighted, the 
three squires entered, in company with the strayed Penates, 
curious to make the acquaintance of their hostess ; but they 
shuddered with dismay when they perceived a living skeleton — 
a dry and very old hag. She wore a long gown, held in her hand 
a bough of mistletoe, and touched with it, in a solemn manner, 
the new comers, while she welcomed them and forced them to sit 
down to a furnished table, on which a frugal meal of milk, meat, 
roasted chestnuts, and fresh fruits were served up. No pressing 
was necessary; the hungry guests fell upon the provisions like 
ravening wolves, and. in a short time, the dishes were so effectu- 
ally emptied, that no dainty mouse would have found enough of 
the remains to satisfy itself. Sarron exceeded his two table com- 
panions in his haste to appease his stomach, for he imagined 
there would be yet another course, where the hedgehog ragout 
would make its appearance, which he intended to leave to his 
companions alone ; but, as the mistress of the house produced 
nothing more, he believed that she had saved this dainty bit for 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



129 



herself. When night came, the squires entreated a night's lodg- 
ing, and the old woman, after some entreaty, began to prepare a 
couch of quilts, spun of Spanish wool, but it was so narrow and 
small that it seemed hardly possible for three men to find room in 
it ; however, they made it suffice, and next morning they were 
roused by the voice of the old dame, who desired them to get 
up and dig her garden. This employment occupied them the 
whole of the day. Next day and the day after they had also their 
work given them to do, and for their labour they were rewarded 
with board and lodging, such as it was. 

When, on the third day, the old woman dismissed the three 
friends, and, with kind words, told them she had no further occa- 
sion for their services, and exhorted them to go on their way, the 
speaker, Sarron, rose and said, " It is not the custom of the 
country to dismiss a guest empty-handed ; moreover, we have 
merited from you more than thanks. Have we not stirred the 
fire under your kettle like kitchen-maids ? Have we not caught 
again your house friend the black cat, which had strayed ? Have 
we not digged your garden, carried water for you, and done every- 
thing for you, like obedient servants ? 

The old mother appeared to bethink herself; she was, according 
to the custom of old matrons, of a close nature, and did not give 
anything away lightly ; but she had conceived an affection for the 
three men, and appeared inclined to grant their request. " Let 
us see," said she, " if I can find a gift for you, to remind each of 
you of me." Thereupon she tripped into her store-room, stirred 
about in it for a long time, opened and shut chests, and jingled 
with her keys, as if she had had the care of locking the hundred 
gates of Thebes. After a long delay, she made her appearance 
again, carrying something concealed in the lap of her dress, then 
turned towards the wise Sarron and asked, " Who shall have 
what I hold now in my hand?" He replied, " The sword-bearer, 
Andiol." She drew forth a rusty, copper penny, and said, " Take 
this, and tell me whose that shall be which I hold in my hand ?" 
The squire, discontented with the distribution, answered, saucily, 
" Whoever will may have it ; what does it matter to me ?" The 
old lady said, "Who will?" Then Amarin the shield-bearer 
named himself, and received for his share a table-napkin, neatly 
washed and folded. Sarron stood on the watch, expecting to 
receive the best ; but he got nothing but a thumbstall from a 
leathern glove, and was much ridiculed by his companions. 

The three fellow-travellers now went their way, took a cold 
leave, without appearing thankful for the charitable gifts or 
praising the liberality of the niggardly matron. After they had 
departed about the distance of a field, the sword-bearer, Andiol, 
began first to fret that they had not better bethought themselves 
in the Druid's cave. "Did you not hear, comrades," said he, 
" how the sorceress opened and shut chests, in her store-chamber, 



130 



POPULAR TALES. 



to collect the rubbish with which she has befooled us? In her 
chests there was certainly abundance of riches. Had we been 
wise, we should have seized the enchanted rod, without which 
she would have had no power over us ; we should have rushed 
into the store-closet, and should, according to the custom and 
plan of warriors, have obtained booty, without allowing ourselves 
to be mocked by an old woman." The discontented squire 
harangued yet longer in this tone, and concluded by drawing forth 
the rusty penny, and throwing it from him hi scorn. A mar in 
followed the example of his companion, nourished the napkin 
around his head, and said, "What avails to me this rag, in these 
wilds where we have nothing to eat; if we find a well- furnished 
table, we shall not care for this ! " He then abandoned it to the 
mournful winds, which wafted it to a neighbouring thorn, that 
held the love-token of the ancient lady fast on its sharp teeth. 
The far-sighted Sarron suspected something of concealed might 
in the despised gifts, and reproved the thoughtlessness of his 
playfellows, who, according to the common course of this world, 
only judged things from their outward appearance, without 
proving their internal worth ; but he preached to deaf ears. 
However, he was not to be persuaded to relinquish his valueless 
thumbstall; on the contrary, he took occasion during his speech 
to make an experiment with it. He drew it on the thumb of his 
right hand without effect ; hereupon he changed it to the left 
hand; and, during these experiments, he had loitered behind his 
companions. On a sudden Amarin stood still, and asked in 
astonishment, " Where is our friend Sarron?" — " Let him be; 
the covetous fellow seeks to recover what we have thrown away." 
Sarron heard these words in silent astonishment ; a cold shudder 
ran through him, and he scarcely knew how to contain himself, 
in his joy, since the secret of the thumbstall was now disclosed to 
him. His comrades halted to wait for him ; he, however, went 
forward quickly on his way, and. when he was fairly in advance 
of them, he cried out, " You daudles, why do you lag behind? 
How long shall I wait for you." Listening attentively, the two 
squires perceived the voice of their companion, whom they fancied 
behind, in front of them ; they, therefore, redoubled their pace, 
and ran on before him without perceiving him. This pleased him 
still more, since he was now sure that the thumbstall imparted to 
him the gift of invisibility ; and so he continued to deceive them, 
without betraying the cause of the deception, although they 
puzzled their heads sorely about it. They imagined their com- 
panion had slipped down from a rock into a deep valley, had 
broken his neck, and that his airy shadow hovered around them 
now, to say farewell to them. At length, tired of his game, 
Sarron made himself again visible, instructed his attentive com- 
panions in the qualities of the wonderful thumbstall, and reproved 
their thoughtlessness, so that they stood there quite stupified. 



Roland's squires. 



131 



Afcer they had recovered from their first astonishment, they ran 
back at full speed, to repossess themselves of the despised gifts 
of the old lady. Amarin huzzaed aloud when already, in the dis- 
tance, he saw the table-napkin wave on the summit of the thorn- 
tree, which had preserved the property intrusted to it more 
carefully (although the four winds of heaven seemed to struggle 
for its possession) than many chests in which are deposited the 
inheritance of minors, though under judicial lock and key. It 
cost more trouble to recover the rusty penny out of the grass, yet 
eagerness to possess it, gave the eyes of Argus to the watchful 
owner, and served as a divining rod to lead his steps, and to point 
out the spot where the treasure lay concealed. A high leap and 
a loud cry of joy, announced the happy discovery of the rusty 
penny. 

The company of travellers were much fatigued with their long 
walk, and sought the shadow of a tree, to shelter themselves 
from the oppressive heat of the sun ; for it was now high noon, 
and they were hungry. The three adventurers were of good 
courage ; their hearts beat high with joyous hope, and the two 
companions who had not yet proved the powers of their miracu- 
lous gifts made many attempts to discover them. Andiol collected 
his little cash, laid it with his copper penny, and began to count, 
forwards, backwards, towards the right, towards the left, from top 
to bottom, and from bottom to top, without perceiving the antici- 
pated properties of a hatching penny. Amarin had gone to one 
side, looped the napkin very demurely through his button-hole, 
expecting nothing less than that a ready-roasted pigeon should 
fly into his mouth ; but his proceeding was much too sinister for 
the magic table-napkin to act its part ; so he returned to his com- 
panions, awaiting what destiny should disclose. The feeling of 
sharp hunger does not indeed improve a merry humour ; but, 
when the elasticity of the soul is once disclosed, it does not sleep 
again at each little change of weather. On the return of Amarin, 
Sarron pulled the napkm out of his hand, in a merry manner, 
spread it on the turf under the tree, and cried, " Hither, comrades, 
the table is spread, let the power of the napkin now bestow on us 
a well-boiled ham upon it, with abundance of white bread. 
Scarcely had he spoken these words, when there rained down 
manchet loaves from the tree upon the cloth, and at the same 
moment stood there an ancient vase, in the form of an over- 
grown dish, with a boiled ham. Astonishment and greediness 
painted themselves in strange contrast in the faces of the hungry 
guests ; however, the instinct of the stomach soon overcame the 
surprise, and with great eagerness they proceeded to satisfy 
their hunger. And now its troublesome twin-brother announced 
itself; besides which the taster, Sarron, had remarked that the 
ham had just a little too much salt. The impetuous Andiol first 
showed his discontent at the half-meal, as he called it ; " Who 



132 



POPULAR TALES. 



feeds me without giving me to drink," said he, "receives at my 
hand little thanks ;" and he began to abuse yet more the defective 
qualities of the miraculous napkin. Amarin, who did not like 
his property to be run down, was offended at these remarks, 
seized the towel by the four corners, to remove it together with 
the dish ; but, as soon as he began to fold it, dish and ham-bone 
had disappeared. "Brother," said he, to the rebellious critic, 
" if in future you w r ill be my guest, then take willingly what my 
table offers, but for thy thirsty spleen seek a bubbling stream ; 
as regards drink, that is another matter ; where there is a bake- 
house, says the proverb, there is no room for a brewhouse." — 
"Well-spoken," answered the sly fellow, Sarron; but let us see 
to this other matter. He again took from him the table-napkin, 
and spread it to the left on the meadow, with the wish that the 
administering spirits should cause to appear some wine-flasks 
filled, in the absence of sack, with the best Malmsey. In a 
twinkling there stood a vase, apparently belonging to the same 
service, formed like a pitcher, and filled with the most beautiful 
Malmsey wine. 

Now, in the enjoyment of the sweet nectar, the three joyous 
fellows would not have exchanged their condition for King Charles's 
throne ; the wine immediately drove away all their past cares, 
and sparkled and foamed in the jack-cap which they used instead 
of a goblet. Even Andiol the spear-bearer now granted the 
power of the table-napkin, and, if its possessor had been willing 
to part with it, he would gladly have exchanged for it the rusty 
penny, with all its unknown properties. This became to him, 
however, much more valuable, and he kept feeling after it every 
minute to find whether it was still in its place. He drew it forth 
to look at the impression, but every trace of this had disappeared ; 
then he turned it to look at the obverse; this was the right 
method to discover its powers. When he perceived here neither 
image nor inscription, and was going to put it by, he found under 
the wonderful penny a gold piece of equal size and thickness with 
it ; he resumed the attempt several times, without being observed, 
to be sure of it, and found the result still the same. With the 
demonstrations of joy of the Syracusan philosopher, who, when 
he had discovered in the bath the water-gage of gold, trumpeted 
his "I have found it" through the streets, Andiol the sword- 
bearer arose from his turfy seat, jumped round the tree, leaping 
like a goat, and screamed with open mouth, "I have it, comrades, 
I have it!" upon which he concealed from them nothing of his 
alchemist's progress. In the first burst of his joyful enthusiasm, 
he proposed instantly to seek out again the beneficent Druidess, 
and, throwing themselves at her feet, to thank her for her gifts. 
A similar impulse inspired them all; they suddenly collected all 
their possessions, and pursued the way by which they came. 
But either their eyes were blinded, or the vapours of the wine led 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



133 



them astray, or Mother Druid carefully concealed herself from 
them ; suffice it to say they were unable to find the grotto again, 
although they traversed the Pyrenees industriously, and had 
already turned their backs on the strange mountains, and were 
on the high-road to Leon, before they perceived that they had 
gone astray. After a general consultation it was agreed to 
pursue this line of march, and to follow straight after their 
noses. 

The happy trefoil of squires now perceived that they were in 
possession of three most desirable things, and that if they did not 
enjoy the greatest earthly happiness, at least, they had the 
groundwork for the gratification of every wish. The old leathern 
thumbstall, though not very sightly, had all the properties of the 
famed ring which Gyges once possessed ; the rusty penny was as 
useful as the purse of Fortunatus ; and the table-napkin was in- 
vested, also, with the same blessing as the famed miraculous flask 
of the holy Remigius. In order to assure to themselves the 
mutual enjoyment of these noble gifts on all occasions, the three 
companions entered into a compact never to separate, but to use 
their goods in common. 

Meanwhile, each, according to the usual preference for one's own 
things, began to boast the superior excellence of his gift, till the 
wise Sarron demonstrated that his thumbstall united in itself the 
fulness of all the other miraculous gifts : "To me," said he, "both 
cellar and kitchen stand open in the house of epicures; I enjoy 
the privilege of the house-fly, to eat out of the same dish with 
the king, without his being able to prevent me ; I may also empty 
the coffers of the rich, and it is even in my power to appropriate 
all the riches of Hindostan if the journey is not too irksome for 
me." 

Amid such speeches they arrived at Astorga, where King 
Garsias of the Asturias held his court, with his daughter, the 
Princess Urraca, as famous for her beauty as for her coquetry. 
The court was splendid and the Princess seemed to be a living 
pattern of her dwelling, in whom, whatever vanity can contribute 
to the decoration of ladies, was united. In the Pyrenean wastes 
the desires and passions of the three wanderers had been very 
limited and moderate; they were satisfied with the gift of the 
table-napkin, spread it out when they came to a shady tree, and 
held an open table. Six meals a day were their minimum, and 
there was not a single delicacy which they did not cause it to 
serve to them. However, when they entered the capital, tumul- 
tuous passions arose in their breasts ; they conceived great 
projects for advancing themselves by their talents, and for rising 
from the rank of squires to lordly dignities. Unluckily they saw 
the lovely Urraca, whose charms so enchanted them that they pro- 
posed to try their fortune with her. They no sooner perceived the 
same feelings in each other, than there arose in their hearts a 



124 



POPULAR TALES* 



gnawing jealousy, the bond of union was broken, and as, in 
general, three happy people can with difficulty reside under one 
roof, since union is the daughter of mutual necessity, so it fell out 
with the partnership, the three united inheritors for life separated, 
only promising to each other not to betray the secret. 

Andiol, in order to be beforehand with his rivals, immediately* 
put his pocket coining-machine into operation, and shut himself 
up in a solitary chamber to twist his copper penny, in order to fill 
the purse with gold pieces. As soon as he had the necessary 
funds, he decked himself out as a stately knight, appeared at the 
court, obtained an appointment, and soon, by his splendour, drew 
the eyes of all Astorga on himself. The curious inquired his 
lineage, but he observed, on this point, a profound silence, and 
let the critics chatter ; yet he did not contradict the report which 
called him a near connexion of Charlemagne's, and he named 
himself Childeric. The Princess, by means of her acuteness of 
sight, discovered this Brabanter, who followed in the vortex of 
her enchanting allurements, with pleasure, and delayed not to 
exercise her attractive powers on him ; — and friend Andiol, to 
whom love in the highest circles was yet new and strange, 
swam with the current, which carried him away, like a light 
soap-bubble. 

The coquetry of the lovely Urraca was not merely temperament, 
or pride in stringing hearts on the cords of her frivolity, to make 
a display with this dazzling garniture, which, in the eyes of ladies, 
is of great value. The amusement of pillaging her suitors, and 
the malicious pleasure of afterwards mocking them, had a great 
share in her plans. Her favoiu' was now granted at the highest 
price w r hich the importunate rivals could offer for it ; as soon as 
an infatuated fool was quite despoiled of his wealth, he was dis- 
missed with scorn and contempt. Of these victims to an unhappy 
passion, which embittered the honey of enjoyment with sad 
repentance, Mrs. Fame had had much to relate throughout the 
kingdom of the Asturias ; notwithstanding this, there were not 
wanting foolhardy moths which flew to the fatal light, in whose 
flames they found then end. 

As soon as Croesus Andiol was scented out by this covetous 
lady, she proposed to herself to make use of him as an orange, 
which one peels to enjoy the sweet marrow. The report of his 
illustrious descent, and the great expenditure that he made, gave 
him so much weight and importance at the court, that even the 
most penetrating eyes did not discover the shield-bearer through 
this dazzling veil, although his blunt manners often betrayed his 
former company. These anomalies in polite manners passed at 
court rather for originality of mind and characteristics of great 
genius. He succeeded in obtaining the first place amid the 
favourites of the Princess, and spared neither trouble nor expense 
to retain it. He daily gave splendid fetes, tournaments, games 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



135 



of running at the ring, royal banquets, fished with golden nets, 
and would, like the squanderer Heliogabaius, have caused the 
Princess to sail on a lake of rose or lavender water, if she had 
studied the Roman history, or had herself conceived this inge- 
nious fancy. Meanwhile similar ideas were not wanting. In a 
hunting-party which her new favourite had prepared, she expressed 
a wish to see the entire forest metamorphosed into a noble park, 
with grottoes, fish-ponds, cascades, springs, baths of parian 
marble, palaces, summer-houses, and colonnades ; and the fol- 
lowing day many thousand hands were occupied in carrying out 
the great plan, and, where it was possible, also improving upon 
the idea of the Princess. If this had lasted long the entire kingdom 
would have been transformed ; where a mountain stood she would 
have had a plain, where the peasant ploughed she would have 
fished, and where gondolas floated she would have wished to ride. 
The copper penny was as little tired of hatching gold pieces, as 
the ingenious lady of spending them ; her sole endeavour was to 
humble the obstinate spendthrift, to crush him in the dust and to 
get rid of him. 

While Andiol shone in this brilliant manner at the court, the 
lazy Amarin fattened on the good deeds of his table-napkin ; but 
envy and jealousy very soon impaired the relish of his table. 
One day he folded up his table-napkin, put it in his pocket, and 
went to walk in the market-place, just as the King's head-cook 
was publicly driven away, because, by a badly-prepared meal, he 
had given the monarch a severe fit of indigestion. When Amarin 
learned this news he was struck with it, and thought to himself, 
in a land where mistakes in cooking are so much thought of, 
without doubt, merit in cooking is well rewarded. He imme- 
diately entered the palace kitchen, announced himself as a 
travelling cook, who sought employment, and promised in an 
hour to give the proof w hich might be required of his skill. The 
kitchen department was at Astorga justly considered among the 
most important, since it had the strongest influence on the pro- 
sperity or troubles of the state. For the good or bad humour of 
the ruler and his ministers depends, in a great measure, on the 
good or bad digestion of the stomach, and it is a well-known 
truth that this may be assisted or hindered by the chemical 
operations of cooking. Tims there was a very reasonable cause 
for going more carefully to work in choosing a head-cook than in 
choosing a minister. Amarin, whose appearance did not recom- 
mend him (for he had quite the air of a vagrant), had to employ 
all his eloquence, that is the talent of boasting, in order to be 
achnitted into the list of aspirants to the high office. Only the 
boldness and confidence with which he spoke of his skill, induced 
the purveyor to give him, as an essay, a particular dish, the 
dressing of which had often wrecked the arts of the most skilful 
cooks. When he had to ask for ingredients for this purpose, he 



136 



POPULAR TALES. 



betrayed such perfect ignorance in the selection, that the whole 
company of cooks found it impossible to restrain their laughter. 
He did not trouble himself, however, about that, locked himself 
into a separate kitchen, kindled, for appearance sake, a large fire, 
opened out his table-napkin, and called for the desired specimen, 
prepared in a masterly manner. Instantly the savoury mess 
appeared in the usual old vase ; he took it, placed it prettily in a 
silver dish, and gave it to be tried by the chief-taster, who took 
a little on his tongue with suspicion, lest he should injure the 
delicate organization of his palate by a spoiled dish. But, to his 
astonishment, he found it excellent, and acknowledged it as 
worthy to be placed on the King's table. The King showed, from 
his indisposition, little desire to eat, but scarcely did the odour 
of the noble dish reach him, when his brow smoothed, and its 
horizon indicated fair weather. He desired to taste it, emptied 
one plate after another, and would have consumed the whole had 
not a feeling of kindness to his spouse and her daughter prompted 
him to send some remains of it to them. The spirits of the 
monarch were so invigorated and excited, and their majesties were 
so cheerful after dinner, that they deigned to work with the 
minister, and even to undertake, of their own accord, the thorny 
affairs of their high seat. The great spring- wheel of this so happy 
revolution of affairs was not forgotten ; the well-skilled Amarin 
was invested with splendid clothes, he was led from the kitchen 
before the throne, and, after a long exordium on his talents, was 
named the King's head-cook, with the rank of field-marshal. In 
a short time his fame reached its highest summit. 

So resplendent a meteor in the kitchen horizon disturbed, 
beyond measure, the heart of the Princess. She had hitherto 
been able to do everything with her father, and held him in the 
leading-strings of her pleasure ; but now she feared to lose her 
power and consequence through the unexpected favouritism. 
Since the kitchen revolution, which Amarin's table-napkin 
WTOught, the culinary skill of the Princess lost its fame. She had 
sometimes had the daring to compete with the major domo, but 
always to her disadvantage; for, instead of triumphing over 
Amarin's dish, hers was commonly removed untouched, and 
became the perquisite of waiters and parasites. Her invention 
wearied in the preparation of costly viands ; Amarin's skill could 
be surpassed only by itself. In this so critical a conjuncture the 
Lady Urraca made a resolution to venture an attack on the heart 
of the new favourite, in order to draw him into her interests 
through love. She called him in secret to her, and, through the 
all-persuasive power of her charms, easily induced hirn to grant 
her what she wished. He promised her, on the approaching 
birthday of the King, a dish which should surpass all that had 
ever previously flattered the sense of taste. 

The two men now played the most conspicuous part in the I 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



137 



court of Astorga, and strutted about with unbounded pride. 
Although after their separation fate had again brought them so 
closely together, that they ate from the same dish — drank from 
the same goblet, and shared the favour of the lovely Urraca ; they 
yet, according to their agreement, behaved to each other like 
perfect strangers, and allowed none of their previous acquaint- 
anceship to be observed. Meanwhile neither of them could 
discover whither the wise Sarron had vanished. The latter 
had, by means of his thumbstall, preserved the strictest incognito, 
and enjoyed the privilege of it in a manner which was not, indeed, 
apparent ; but, notwithstanding, assured to him the accomplish- 
ment of all his wishes. The sight of the lovely Urraca had made 
the same impression on him as on his companions ; his wishes 
and intentions were the same, and as no ceremony was required 
for the fulfilment of them, he had, already, won a great advantage 
before his rivals suspected it in the least. Since their separation, 
the wise Sarron had hovered invisibly around his two companions, 
and now, as before, remained table and pocket companion of 
Amarin and Andiol — filled his stomach with the remains from 
the table of the one, and his purse from the superfluous money of 
the other. 

His first care was to dress himself in a romantic manner, in order 
to carry out his plan, and to surprise the Princess in the retirement 
of her own chamber. He clad himself in cerulean blue satin, with 
a rose-coloured under-dress, like an Arcadian shepherd, who tends 
his flocks, in a masked ball ; perfumed himself strongly, and 
entered, by the aid of his miraculous gift, into the room at her 
hour of the afternoon siesta. The sight of the reposing beauty 
struck him so much, that he could not refrain from an exclamation 
of delight and surprise, at the sound of which her slumbering 
attendant awoke, whose office it was to waft cool air to her lady, 
with a fly-fan of peacock's feathers, and to drive a way the winged 
insects. The Princess likewise roused herself, and asked what 
stranger could have been in the chamber. The lady of the bed- 
chamber again set her fan in motion, as if she had not ceased her 
activity, declared that no third person was in the chamber ; and 
added the assurance that it must be a pleasant dream which had 
deceived her highness. The Princess was not to be put off, and 
she commanded the attendant lady's-maid to make inquiries 
without in the antechamber of the guards. While she left her seat 
to obey the command, the fan began to agitate itself, and to waft 
to the Princess cool zephyrs, which breathed out fragrance of 
flowers and ambergris. At this sight horror and fright seized 
the fair Urraca ; she sprang from her sofa, and would have fled, 
but felt herself restrained by an invisible power, and heard a voice 
which whispered to her these words : — " Lovely mortal, fear 
nothing, you are under the protection of the powerful king of the 
fairies, named Damogorgon. Your charms have attracted me 



138 



POPULAR TALE?, 



from the upper regions of the air, into the oppressive atmosphere 
of the earth, to do homage to your beauty.'* At these words 
attendant entered the chamber to give a report of her commission, 
but she was hmnediately sent away with an excuse, since her 
presence appeared superfluous at this secret audience. 

The lovely Urraca was naturally tmcommonly flattered by such 
a supernatural lover ; she put in action all the graces of the most 
practised coquetry, in order to dazzle the lord of the fairies by the 
variegated splendour of her charms, and to assure herself of so 
mighty a conquest. From the modest embarrassment which she 
at first affected, she changed to the warmest demonstration? of 
growing passion. The confiding tenderness of the lovers grew 
with every moment : the Princess only complained that her lover 
was invisible. " Know, lovely Princess."' said the king of the 
fame?, " that it is quite in my power to corporealize myself and 
to present myself before your eye? in the figure of man ; but such 
a conde?cen?ion i? below my dignity!*' The lovely Urraca did 
not, meanwhile, cease to crave this sacrifice so pressingly, that 
he could not withstand the desire of the lady. He agreed, 
apparently im willingly, — and the fancy of the Prince?? pre?ented 
to her the image of the handsomest man, whom she, with anxious 
expectation waited to behold. But what a contrast between the 
actual and the ideal i nothing appeared but a common every- 
day face — one of the ordinary men, whose physiognomy revealed 
neither the glance of genius, nor a feeling mind. The pretended 
fairy prince, in his Arcadian shepherd's costume, had quite the 
appearance of a Flemish peasant in one of 0?tade*s taverns. The 
Princess concealed her astonishment at this bizarre appearance, 
as well as she could, and consoled her?elf hmnediately with the 
idea, that the proud spirit of air had been willing to impose a 
little penitence on her senses, for her pertinacity in deshing him 
to assume a visible shape, and that, on another appearance, he 
would make himself as handsome as Adonis. 

Perhaps he would have been happier without the gift of 
invisibility than with it. He followed the lady, incognito like her 
shadow, and could not thus fail to make discoveries not altogether 
pleasing to a lover. Tie found that the complaisant Princess 
granted her favours to others with equal kberality ; and this fatal 
collision with hi? previous companions in arms, who were as well 
received as himself created in his heart a tortming jealousy. He 
thought on some means of diivhig away his rivals, and, by chance, 
he found an opportimity of displaying his resentment against the 
blockhead Aniarin. At a banquet at which the king and the 
whole court were feasted, there was placed on the table a covered 
dish, for which King Garsia? reserved his excellent appetite : for 
although the table-napkin had produced it, it passed current 
under the firman of the Princess Urraca ; and the head-cook 
loudly asserted, that the culinary skill of her highness, this time, 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



139 



so far surpassed his own, that, in order not to venture his reputa- 
tion, he had withheld his usual contribution to the cheer. This 
flattery was so acceptable to the Princess, that she repaid the 
major domo with the most tender intelligent glance, which cut to 
the heart the invisible watchful Sarron. " Very good," said he 
to himself, " you shall none of you taste that." When the chief 
carver raised the dish, and uncovered it, the concealed dainty 
had disappeared, to the astonishment of all the surrounding attend- 
ants, and the dish was empty and void. Great whispering and 
murmurs arose among the servants ; the chief carver let his 
knife fall in his horror, and told it to the purveyor. He ran to 
the chief taster and told him the bad news ; and the latter did not 
delay to whisper it in the ear of his chief ; thereupon the major 
domo arose from his place with a grave official air, and whispered 
the sad news in the Princess's ear, who became as pale as a 
corpse. The King, meanwhile, awaited with great anxiety the 
cup-bearer, who should present him with the eagerly expected 
dainty. He looked first to the right, then to the left, for the plate 
which was to come ; when, however, he perceived the confusion 
of the attendants, and how they all ran about in disorder, he 
asked what was the matter, and the Princess took heart and 
disclosed to him with melancholy gestures, that an accident had 
happened, and her dish could not be produced ! At this unpleasant 
news the hungry monarch, as is easy to imagine, grew very angry 
— pushed away his chair in displeasure, and betook himself to his 
apartment, in which hasty withdrawal every body took care to 
keep out of his way. The Princess also did not remain long in 
the dining-hall, but betook herself to her chamber, there to break 
the staff over the poor Amarin. 

Suddenly, she caused the confounded major domo, who had not 
yet recovered from his astonishment at the vanished dainty and 
the extreme anger of the King, to be summoned before her ; and 
when he lay, sadly and submissively, at the feet of the scornful 
lady, she addressed him, emphatically, in these words : " Un- 
thankful traitor ! dost thou so little value my favours, that thou 
canst venture to excite against me the anger of the monarch, and 
expose me to the laughter of the whole coiu-t retinue ? Is thy 
ambition so iinlimited, that, for the highest favours, thou denies t 
me the little honour of adorning the King's table with a simple 
dish ? Didst thou repent thy promise to allure thither, at my 
wish, the most excellent dish/that thou sufferedst it to disappear 
at the moment I expected to receive praises and applause ? Dis- 
close to me immediately the secret of thy art, or expect the recom- 
pense of magic at the stake, where to-morrow thou shalt roast at 
a slow fire ! " This firm decision harrowed so much the timorous 
simpleton, that he saw no way of escaping but by an open reve- 
lation of the nature of his culinary art. Since now his prating 
tongue was in motion, and he besides wished to remove the 

N 3 



140 



POPULAR TALES, 



suspicion of the enraged lady that he had enviously caused the 
ragout to disappear, he neither concealed the adventure in the 
Pyrenees,, nor the gifts of Mother Druid. Through this true tale 
the Princess suddenly arrived at the long-desired knowledge of 
her three favourites, and immediately resolved to possess herself of 
their magic secrets. 

As soon as the unguarded prattler ceased, and according to bis 
idea had justified himself she spoke,, and said,, with a contemptu- 
ous mien. "'Miserable fool! dost thou hope to save thyself, and 
to deceive me with such a lame falsehood I Let me see the 
wonder of thy table-napkin, or fear my revenge ! " Amarin was 
as willing as constrained to obey this command. He drew forth 
his table-napkin, spread it out,, and asked what he should serve 
up. She desired a ripe nutmeg, in the husk. Amarin commanded 
the obedient spirit of the napkin ; the vase appeared ; and the 
ripe nutmeg in its husk appeared on a green twig, which Amarin. 
toUrraca's astonishment, offered respectfully to her, on his knees. 
But. instead of accepting it. she seized upon the magic table- 
napkin, and threw it into an open box. which she immediately 
locked. Fainting, the betrayed major domo sank to the earth, 
when he saw before his eyes the loss of all his temporary happi- 
ness; the cunning robber, however, gave a loud scream : and when 
her domestics entered, she said. " This man is afflicted with epi- 
lepsy ; take care of him ; but let him never again approach me, 
that he may not cause me a second fright." Stupidly enough, the 
clever Sarron. with all his cunning, had this time kept a bad look 
out. in thinking to piny his companion a roguish trick. In the 
pleasure of mischief, he greedily gobbled up the pilfered dainty: 
and. thus occupied, he did not think, on this occasion, of accom- 
panying the Queen into her chamber. She had. however, on the 
previous day. invited him to an entertainment in the evening, 
where he did not delay to present himself. The Queen was in an 
unusually good humour, and as tender and caressing as a Grace ; 
so that Mend Damogorgon was in a complete paroxysm of joy. 
In this rapture, the cunning deceiver ottered him a goblet of 
nectar, which she first sipped, and the flavour of which soon 
wafted to him sweet slumbers : for a powerful opiate lay concealed 
therein. As soon as he began to snore aloud, the most crafty of 
thieves possessed herself of the thumbstall of invisibility, and 
caused the monarch of air to be carried forth by her servants, 
and laid in the open street, in a corner of the town, where he 
snored out the narcotic draught on the pavement. Xo sleep 
came to the eyes of the false Princess, for joy: her thoughts and 
invention were now only directed to obtaining also the third 
magic treasure. 

Scarcely did the first morning-beam gild the roofs of the King's 
palace at Astorga, when the restless lady rang for her Abigails 
and said, M Send a messenger to Ciiilderic. that he may accompany 



Roland's squires. 



Ill 



me to mass, and repay this favour with a rich offering for the 
poor. 

The pampered favourite of fortune and of the lovely Urraca 
yet lay stretched on his broad couch, yawned aloud when he re- 
ceived the honourable message, but caused himself to be dressed 
by his half-asleep attendants, and repaired to the court, where the 
High Chamberlain looked askance at him that he should again 
enjoy the honour of exercising his function on his behalf. With 
splendid pomp went the procession this time to the Cathedral, 
where the Archbishop, with his staff of Clergy, held a solemn 
festival. The people had already assembled in great numbers to 
stare at the noble cavalcade. The lovely Urraca, and yet more 
the rich train of her dress which was supported by six attendants, 
excited general astonishment. A crowd of unfortunate beggars, 
lame, blind, and halt, on crutches and stilts, surrounded the 
splendid Cathedral, impeded the way and supplicated alms, which 
Andiol distributed largely to the right and left. A blind old man 
distinguished himself by the activity with which he pushed himself 
forward, and by the anxious supplications with which he entreated 
benevolence before all the rest ; he would not quit the side of the 
Princess, but held up his hat constantly, and begged for a trifle. 
Andiol from time to time threw him a gold-piece, but before the 
blind man found it, a thievish neighbour stole it from him, and he 
resumed his entreaty. The Princess appeared to compassionate 
this unhappy old man; she suddenly took the purse from her 
companion, and gave it into the hand of the blind beggar : "Take," 
said she, "good old man, the blessing which a noble knight bestows 
on thee, through me, and pray for the health of his soul." 

Andiol was horrified to such a degree at this exercise of libe- 
rality at his expense, that he was quite confounded, and made a 
movement with his hand as if to recover the purse, at which ap- 
parent avarice the attentive suite broke forth into loud laughter. 
At this his emotion was only greater ; yet he was so fearful of 
injuring his reputation, that he went with the Princess on his arm 
into the Cathedral, and concealed his deep grief as well as he could 
till the mass was sung. Afterwards he inquired industriously 
after the beggar, and promised great rewards for an old coin, 
which, according to his representation, was a rare cabinet-piece. 
But no one could tell him whither the beggar had disappeared ; 
as soon as the purse was in his hands, he vanished, and was 
no more seen. The seeing blind man in fact could have been 
found only in the antechamber of the Princess Urraca, where he 
awaited her return ; for he was her court buffoon, whom she had 
disguised as a blind beggar in order to obtain possession of the 
hatching penny, which'to her great joy she found in the pursa, 
which her agent faithfully made over to her: 

The most crafty of women now found herself, through her arts, 
in possession of "all the magic gifts of the three esquires, who 



142 



POPULAR TALES. 



bemoaned and wept their loss inconsolably, and despairingly tore 
their hah" and beards ; she, however, proudly triumphed at the 
success of her cunning, and troubled herself no farther about the 
three unlucky wretches. 

The first thing which she undertook, was to try whether the 
miraculous gifts would exercise their powers in the hand of a new 
possessor. Her trial succeeded to her wish; the table-napkin 
yielded its dish at her command, the copper penny produced 
ducats, and under the veil of the thumb stall she went unseen 
past the watch in the antechamber, into the apartments of her 
ladies. 

With a joyously-beating heart she made projects for the most 
dazzling scenes, which she hoped to execute, and her darling wish 
was to change herself into a lovely fairy. She had the ingenuity 
to discover a new theory as to these puzzling ladies, even the accu- 
rate knowledge of whom is concealed from the beings of this 
world. What is a fairy, thought she. but the possessor of one or 
more magic secrets through which are wrought the wonders which 
appear to elevate them above the lot of mortals ? And can I not, 
by the aid of this concealed power, qualify myself for one of the 
first of fairies ? Her sole remaining wish was to possess a car 
drawn by dragons, or a team of butterflies, since the way through 
the air appeared yet closed to her. Still she flattered herself that 
this privilege would not be denied to her when she should be re- 
ceived into the community of fairies ; she hoped easily to find an 
agreeable sister who would exchange with her such an airy 
equipage for one of her miraculous gifts. All night long she 
amused herself with agreeable castles in the air. to surprise 
handsome youths, to tease them invisibly, to drive them out of 
their wits, to plague them with the torments of love, and then to 
elude then grasp, &c. &c. Yet the new fairy felt a substantial 
want ere she could venture to go forth with a proper air on her 
adventures ; she wanted first a well-furnished fairy wardrobe. With 
the earliest morning which followed a watchful night, in which 
her lively imagination had arranged the whole stock of fairy orna- 
ments, from the flag-feather to the heel of the lowly shoe, the 
assembled company of tailors in Astorga was summoned, as if the 
first masquerade was to be opened, or as if the most capricious 
theatrical princesses were to be waited on for an Opera Seria. 
Yet before these preparations were completed, an event took 
place which astonished the whole kingdom of the Asturias, and 
especially the lovely Urraca. 

The long exertions of her mind had one night at length sent 
the idealized Princess to sleep, when she was suddenly awakened 
by a martial voice, and an officer of the watch commanded her to 
follow him without delay. The terrified lady fell from the clouds, 
knew not what to say or think, but began to expostulate with the 
warrior, who, putting aside his present function, was indeed very 



ROLAND'S SQUIRES. 



143 



good-looking, for which reason also, in bygone times, the honour 
of being visited by the fairies was attributed to him. After a 
strong appeal made in vain, the Princess perceived that she was 
the weaker, and must obey. "The King's will is a command for 
me," said she; "I follow you." As she said this, she went to 
her box, in order, as she pretended, to fling over her a cloak as a 
protection against the night air, but in truth to perform the trick 
of the thumbstall, and to disappear suddenly. But the captain 
had strict orders, and was rude enough to refuse this little com- 
pliance to the lovely prisoner. Neither prayers nor tears had 
any effect on the hard-hearted soldier; he seized her in his mus- 
cular arms, and carried her nimbly out of the chamber, of which 
justice immediately took possession, and caused it to be bolted 
up. Below, at the outer gate, stood a sedan borne by two mules, 
in which the weeping lady, in the most careless neglige, must 
needs take her seat ; and now their route went by torchlight, 
silently and sadly, like a midnight funeral, through the solitary 
streets and out at the gate, to a distance of twelve miles, to a 
sequestered convent well walled round, where the tearful pri- 
soner was locked up in a frightful cell, forty fathoms below the 
earth. 

King Garsias had, since the disagreeable feast-day, on which 
his food had disappeared from the dish, been so ill-humoured, 
that nothing could be done with him. One half of his ministers 
and attendants had incurred his displeasure, and the other half, 
fearing the same fate, sought most industriously to drive away 
this splenetic paroxysm. For this purpose, many expedients 
were proposed ; among the rest a hunting-party, which had the 
preference, as a means of diversion. It did not effect, however, 
what was hoped from it, The King could not get over the dis- 
appearance of the chef d'ceuvre of cookery, and hinted intelligibly 
his opinion that this vanishing had not happened in a lawful 
manner ; nay, he even, contrary to his usual confidence, ex - 
pressed a suspicion of the bad sin of magic against the Princess. 
Other suspicious circumstances, also, came to fight, and as Urraca 
had at court a large party of enemies, they no sooner perceived 
in what point of view the King now appeared to view her, than 
the spirit of cabal delayed not to employ this opportunity for the 
destruction of her good name. 

A court-commission was now unceasingly employed in hunting 
through the effects of this unhappy Princess, in order to discover 
proofs of magic — perhaps a talisman, with magic characters, or 
even a contract with the wicked enemy, or a copy of such a con- 
tract. All her jewels, and other valuables, as well as all the 
fairy preparations, were faithfully noted down; but notwith- 
standing all the trouble employed, weak-minded justice could 
discover nothing which appeared to have any connexion with 
enchantment. The actual " corpus delicti" the booty of Ro- 



144 



POPULAR TALES. 



land's companions had so insignificant and unsuspicious an 
appearance, that they did not even deign to catalogue these 
magic treasures. The valuable napkin only served the uncon- 
scious secretary of justice as a cloth with which to wipe up the 
black stream from an overthrown inkstand; the miraculous 
thumb stall, — the noble vehicle of invisibility, — and the rich- 
making copper penny, were thrown aside as useless rubbish. 
What became of the fair Urraca, in the dismal cloister in which 
she was immured, if she was sentenced to a life-long penitence, 
or has ever again seen the light of day, as well as if the three 
magic secrets were destroyed by mould, rust, and decay, or were 
snatched by some fortunate hand from the rubbish and heaps of 
sweepings to which all the goods of the earth fall for preservation, 
on this subject the old legend preserves a profound silence. Fate 
ought properly to have caused the fruitful napkin, or the aug- 
menting penny to fall into the hands of a starving virtuous 
man, languishing with a ravenous family on the profits of his 
hard labour, and having only tears when the young ravens cried 
for bread. And the gift of invisibility might well have been the 
portion of a pining grieving lover, whose maiden a father's 
tyranny, or a mother's despotism, had shut up in some strong 
castle, that he might deliver his beloved from her strait con- 
finement, and unite himself inseparably with her. But such 
things, in the common course of this lower world, are not always 
to be expected. 

After the loss of all the gifts of the generous Mother Druid, 
the plundered owners quietly departed from Astorga. Amarin, 
who, without his table-napkin, could not properly fill the office 
of head master of the kitchen, was the first to depart; Andiol 
followed him on foot. Since the great facility of acquiring his 
money had taught him the usual aversion to work of rich glut- 
tons, he was too lazy to turn his penny in proportion to his 
expenses, but lived on credit, and was accustomed only to fill his 
coffers when the weather was bad, or when he had no party of 
pleasure. Now he was without the means of satisfying his credi- 
tors. He, however, changed his dress without delay, and dis- 
appeared from their sight. As soon as Sarron awoke from his 
death-like sleep, and perceived that he had ceased to play the 
Fairy King, he crept home despondingly, collected his old equip- 
ments, and took immediately the first straight road to the gate. 

Chance so contrived it, that all Roland's squires again met in the 
high-road to Castile. Instead of annoying each other with useless 
reproaches, which could now in no wise better their condition, 
they bore their lot with resignation. Its similarity, and the 
unexpected meeting, immediately revived the old bond of com- 
panionship ; and the wise Sarron made the remark, that the lot 
of friendship falls only to the golden mean, and is with difficulty 
united with great talents, or fortune. , 



Roland's squires. 



145 



Hereupon the three comrades unanimously agreed to go forth 
on their way, to return again to a course of honourahle duty, in 
following their first profession under Castilian colours, and to 
avenge the death of Roland on the Saracens. They soon found 
themselves at the goal of their desires, their swords drank the 
Saracen's blood in the tumult of the battle-field. They led a long 
and honourable life of warfare, and, at last, crowned with the 
palms of victory, they died together the death of heroes. 



( H6 ) 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



f >£grM ,^^PON the summit of the oftimes, yet but indifferently, 
A sung Giant Mountains, the Parnassus of Silesia, there 
iMM^jt^ dwelt in peaceful union with Apollo and his nine 
Qy^^^ muses, the renowned mountain spirit Rlibezahl, who, 
£S%^>S^ without doubt, has conferred upon these mountains 
more celebrity than all the Siiesian poets put together. 

This prince of gnomes, it is true, possessed but a small territory 
on the surface of the earth, its extent measuring in circumference 
only a few miles, shut in by a chain of hills : and even this small 
domain had to be shared by two other mighty monarchs, who did 
not condescend to own his sovereignty. A few fathoms, however, 
under ground, he reigned sole master, no one there being able to 
trench upon his dominion, which extended eight hundred and sixty 
miles into the depths of the earth, even to its very centre. 

It sometimes pleased this subterranean prince to traverse his 
wide-spread domain in the dark abyss, that he might behold the 
inexhaustible treasure chambers of rocks and strata, observe how 
his subjects gnomes were getting on, and give them something to 
do ; at times employing them in making dykes to stem the fire stream 
which flowed in the interior of the earth, or in bathing in metallic 
vapour the sterile stone, until it became transformed into noble 
ore. Then, freeing himself from the cares of his underworld 
government, at other times he would ascend, for relaxation, to 
his frontier castle, and there dwell on the Giant Mountains, and 
amuse himself with making sport of the children of men : like a 
mischievous merrymaker, who, in order to laugh, terrifies his 
neighbour to death. 

For Riibezahl, it must be known, resembles a man of powerful 
genius, and is capricious, stormy, and singular; rude, rough, proud, 
vain, and changeable; to-day one of the warmest of friends, to- 
morrow cold and reserved. Sometimes good natured, noble, and 
feeling, but by and by contradicting himself: wise and foolish, 
soft one minute and hard in another, like an egg which falls into 
boiling water ; roguish and honest, obstinate and yielding ; — -just 
according to the mood of his inward humour at the time when he 
happens to come across some person or thing. 

In ancient times, before the posterity of Japheth had penetrated , 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



147 



so far northwards as to make the country habitable, Riibezahl, 
already stormed in the wild mountain, roused bears and buffaloes 
until they fought with each other, or frightened with dreadful 
uproar the timid deer, driving them down from the steep preci- 
pice into the deep valley. At length, wearied of this hunting, he 
again departed to the regions of the lower world, and rested there 
a few centuries, until the wish arose once more to lay himself 
down in the sun, and to enjoy the view of the upper world. 
What was his surprise, when, on one of these visits, and looking 
around from the snowy summit of the Giant Mountains, he be- 
held the whole landscape changed! The dim impervious forests 
were all hewn down and converted into fruitful fields, where the 
rich grain was ripening. Amidst orchards of fruit-trees, full of 
blossom, arose the straw-thatched roofs of thriving villages, and 
the curling smoke peacefully ascended from many a chimney; 
here and there on the declivity of a hill stood a solitary fastness, 
as the defence and protection of the place. In the flowery mea- 
dows sheep and oxen pastured, and in the verdant copse were heard 
the melodious tones of the pipe. 

The novelty of the scene, and the agreeableness of its first ap- 
pearance, delighted the astonished prince of the domain so much, 
that he had no desire to interrupt the occupation or existence of 
these self-eonstituted intruding planters, who were thus labouring 
here without his permission; so he allowed them quietly to rest 
in possession of their usurped property, as a kind householder 
permits the social swallow, or even the troublesome sparrow, to 
rest beneath his roof. It even came into his mind that he would 
make the acquaintance of men — that strange race, that mixture 
of animal and spirit; that he would mingle in their society, and 
examine their nature and manners. For this purpose he assumed 
the form of a stout countryman, and hired himself as a labourer 
to a most respectable farmer. Whatever he took in hand pros- 
pered, and Rips, the ploughman, was considered the best labourer 
in the village. But his master was a glutton and a drunkard, 
who squandered away the wages of his faithful servant, and gave 
him little thanks for his trouble and labour; Rips therefore left 
him, and went to his neighbour, who gave him his flock of sheep 
to take care of. He guarded them diligently, drove them to soli- 
tary places and steep hills, where the best grass grew. The flock 
throve and increased wonderfully: no sheep tumbled over the 
rocks, and none were torn to pieces by the wolf. However, 
this master turned out a miser, who did not reward his good ser- 
vant as he deserved; he himself stole the best ram out of the flock, 
and then kept the value of it from the wages of the shepherd. Upon 
this, Rips took leave of the greedy fellow, and entered the service 
of the judge; became the scourge of the thief, and laboured most 
zealously in the cause of justice. But the judge was a wicked 
man ; turned aside from what was just ; judged according to 



148 



POPULAR TALES. 



favour, and despised right. As Rips would not be the instrument 
of unrighteousness, he refused his services to the judge, and, in 
consequence, was thrown into prison, out of which, however, in 
the usual way of spirits, he easily made his escape by the key- 
hole. 

It was impossible that this first attempt in the study of man- 
kind could make a favourable impression upon him. He returned 
back in disgust to his rocky fortress, from thence beheld the 
smiling plain which human industry had made beautiful, and won- 
dered that mother nature could lend her gifts to such a heartless 
brood. Notwithstanding this, he again ventured on a journey 
into the plain, to resume the study of humanity. 

His next adventure was a love one. He became enamoured of 
the fair Princess Emma, the daughter of the King of Silesia, whom 
he once accidentally fell in with as she strolled about, among 
the woods and streams of her father's domain, with her attendant 
maidens. He forthwith determined upon an abduction, and one 
day, when the fair princess had wandered further than usual, and 
was reclining alone under the shade of a spreading tree, he carried 
her off, and had arrived with her in his subterraneous palace 
long before her attendants had discovered their loss. The affair 
caused great consternation and grief to her father and his whole 
court, but especially to the young Prince Ratibor, the betrothed 
of the fair Emma. Long and anxious were their searches after 
the lost one, but in vain. 

Meantime the object of their anxiety was not so uncomfortable 
as might have been supposed. Her apartments in the gnome's 
palace were truly magnificent, and contained everything she could 
wish for, while the gnome himself, having taken the form of a 
handsome young man, knelt at her feet, and offered up to her his 
vows of ardent devotion. 

Observing that his lovely idol languished for society, the obliging 
gnome presented her with a basket of fresh and full-grown tur- 
nips, giving her at the same time a silver wand, by means of which 
she metamorphosed these vegetables into well-dressed and well- 
bred courtiers. Enchanted with her imposing retinue, the Prin- 
cess Emma would now roam through every crook and cranny of 
her subterraneous dwelling, and, when tired of exploring its 
numerous halls and chambers, pace every alley and shady walk 
of the spacious garden, throughout which reigned a perpetual 
spring. 

But, alas! even in a fairy land it would appear that nothing is 
certain but change. It surpassed the art even of a courtier to con- 
ceal the ravages of a decay which too plainly advanced with rapid 
strides. The Princess, in fact, beheld her graceful retinue gradually 
sinking into a company of old and withered hags, with tottering 
feet and trembling arms ; and, in a fit of high indignation, she 
ordered them all from her presence, and ran to lay her grievances 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



149 



before her lover. The complaisant sprite explained to her, that 
as soon as the juice of the turnip was dried up, the vegetable 
became utterly worthless, and its functions extinct. 

The fair Emma, finding that she was again to be doomed to 
solitude, first complained, and then wept; and so powerful are the 
tears of a lovely woman, that, not even a gnome could withstand 
them. He protested that he would explore every inch of his sub- 
terraneous domain in quest of another supply of turnips suited to 
her purpose; but his exertions were fruitless. Delicious fruits 
and fragrant flowers he found in abundance; but though he would 
willingly have exchanged a whole bushel of the golden apples of 
the Hesperides for a single turnip, not one could he procure. He 
then determined to ransack his dominions over-head; but what 
was his dismay, on emerging from below, to find the icy sceptre 
of winter extended over the whole earth, and not even a blade of 
grass penetrating through the deep masses of snow ! 

In this dilemma, there was nothing left for our dejected lover 
but to assume the appearance of a countryman, walk into the 
nearest village, and purchase a sackful of turnip-seed, which he 
laid at the feet of his beautiful tyrant. Provoked and disappointed, 
she now loaded him with reproaches, ridiculed the idea of his pos- 
sessing such boasted power of transmutation, and cut him to the 
heart by sarcasms on his inability to perform what he had under- 
taken ; in short, she raised such a storm as any one, save a lover, 
would have fled from. But the gnome stood his ground; and the 
lovely Emma at last consented to accompany him to the garden, 
to see him sow the seed from which her future happiness was to 
arise. The gnome set instantly to work, and in a few moments 
innumerable uprooted myrtles, hyacinths, and carnations strewed 
the ground. So eager indeed was Emma to forward the work of 
extermination, that she laid her dignity aside, and assisted her lover 
to tear up whole beds of her once-loved flowers, and to sow the 
much-valued substitutes in their place. To watch the progress 
of the turnip-field, was her occupation morning, noon, and night; 
and there at sunrise or sunset her lover never failed to find her. 
He rejoiced at it, for she never listened so complacently to his 
suit as when so engaged. 

Gradually the young plants increased in size and beauty, and 
gradually the coldness and reserve of the princess began to give 
way, until at length she consented to be his — but on one condi- 
tion. " My marriage," said she to her enraptured lover, " shall 
not be without witnesses; go, then, and count every turnip in the 
field ; I shall animate every one of them ; for take care that you 
count them correctly, for if you miss but one of them, my pro- 
mise shall be withdrawn." So enchanted was the gnome, that he 
would not have scrupled to count the sands of the sea-shore. The 
counting of a field of turnips, therefore, appeared a small affair ; 
and Emma having retired into the palace not to disturb his calcu- 

o 3 



150 



POPULAR TALES. 



latioDS. he immediately began his task. But this he soon found 
was no such easy matter. Hour after hour did our lover labour at 
his task; at length it was accomplished, and he hurried to the 
palace. There a dead silence reigned. " I shall find her in the 
garden, gathering flowers for the bridal wreath," said the gnome; 
but in vain did he make the groves resound with the loved name 
of Emma — echo alone answered him, as if in mockery. A sudden 
suspicion came across him, he darted upwards, and in another 
instant stood upon the surface of the earth. Unhappy sprite, 
what a heart-rending scene did he now behold ! There was his 
loved Emma, mounted on a steed swifter than the wind, flying to 
her former lover. Prince Ratibor, who rapidly approached her. 
He now comprehended the whole extent of his misfortune. The 
deceitful Emma had abstracted one of the turnips, metamorphosed 
it into a fiery courser, and had nearly attained the boundary of 
his territory, beyond which he had no power. " Ah, traitress ! 
you shall not escape me," exclaimed the indignant gnome, as he 
darted after the flying fair one. Furious the gnome laid hold of 
two clouds which were near him, dashed them with a hideous crash 
against each other, and sent after the fugitive a flash of lightning, 
which shivered in a thousand pieces a massive oak tree, which for 
ages had marked the boundary of his dominions. The boundary, 
however, the princess had luckily just passed, and beyond that 
Riibezahl was powerless. 

The deserted spirit rent the air with his cries, and plunged 
down to his subterraneous dominions, there to bewail his disap- 
pointment, and to lament his ill-fortune. In his rage he stamped 
his feet, and in a moment the magic palace disappeared, while the 
gnome betook himself once more to his former solitary abode in 
the centre of the earth, with a heart still more embittered against 
the inhabitants of this upper earth. 

The report of the strange adventure of the princess, and the 
ingenious device by which she effected her escape, was soon spread 
abroad throughout her father's kingdom, and in all the surround- 
ing country, and it became a tradition, which descended from 
generation to generation, until at last the common people were 
accustomed to give the gnome, for want of a better, the name of 
Riibezahl, or the Turnip Counter; thus perpetuating in the most 
lasting manner the memory of his unlucky mishap. 




P. 155. 

?J|^p£5^HE displeased gnome had, as we have seen, left 
0^ffif&l the upper world with the determination never again 
y^§is>" to behold the light of day; but beneficent Time 
gradually effaced the effects of his grief, although 
the tedious operation of healing his wound re- 
quired not less than nine hundred and ninety-nine years. At 
length, when sadly oppressed by heaviness and ennui, and in a 
very bad humour, his favourite jester in the lower region — a 
merry frolicksome cob old — proposed one day a pleasure trip to 
the Giant Mountains, to which proposal his Highness most 
readily acceded. There needed no longer time than a minute, 
and the distant journey was accomplished. He found himself at 
once in the midst of his old pleasure grounds, to which he 
imparted its former appearance of verdure; invisible, however, to 
human eyes, — for the wanderers who crossed the mountains saw 
nothing but a gloomy wilderness. The sight of these objects, 
still viewed through the rosy light of his old love, renewed the 
whole remembrance of his bygone courtship; and his adventure 
with the beautiful Emma appeared as an event of yesterday; her 
image floated as vividly before his eyes as if she were indeed 
beside him. But, when he remembered how she had outwitted 
and deceived him, his wrath against the whole human race was 
again excited. " Miserable worms of the earth!" he exclaimed, 
as he looked up and beheld from the high mountains the steeples 



152 



POPULAR TALES. 



of the churches and convents, the towns and villages; "you are 
still at your old work below, in the valley: greatly have ye 
teased me by your deceit and knavery, but now will I plague and 
torment you in such a way that the doings of the spirit of the 
Mountain shall make you quail." 

Scarcely were these words pronounced, when he heard in the 
distance human voices. Three young journeymen were passing 
over the mountain, the boldest among them incessantly crying 
out, "Rtibezahl, come down! Riibezahl, thou maiden stealer, 
come hither." 

From time immemorial gossip had faithfully preserved, by oral 
tradition, the love adventure of the spirit of the Mountain; 
embellished, as is usual in such cases, with many lying additions, 
and the tale had become the subject with which all travellers 
amused themselves as they passed over the mountains. Innu- 
merable were the dreadful stories of things which had never 
happened, yet were sufficient to frighten the timid ; whilst the 
stronger-minded wits, and philosophers, who, in broad daylight 
and in company, had no faith whatever in spectres, and, indeed, 
ridiculed the idea, were in the habit, in order to prove their 
courage, of citing the spirit to appear; calling him in their folly 
by his nickname, and even at times abusing him. The peaceful 
Mountain Spirit had never been known to take any notice of such 
liberties ; for, indeed, in the depths of his abode he had never 
heard one word of this audacious mockery. The more, therefore, 
was he astonished when he now heard the whole chronicle of his 
misfortunes thus briefly and convincingly shouted out. 

As the storm wind he flew through the dark pine forest, with 
the intention of strangling the unhappy wight who, without 
meaning any harm, had amused himself at his expense. But 
it occurred all at once to the spirit that such a cruel revenge 
would excite much disturbance in the country, banish all visitors 
from the mountains, and deprive him of the opportunity of 
having his sport with them. He, therefore, permitted the tres- 
passer and his companions to continue their way unmolested, 
reserving him for some marked and more appropriate punish- 
ment. 

The offender parted with his friends at the next crossway, and 
reached, for the present, his native town, Hirschberg, with a 
whole skin. But Riibezahl had followed him unperceived to the 
inn, in order to know where again, at a convenient time, to find 
him. He now returned to his mountains, meditating how he 
best could avenge himself. By accident, he met on the road a 
rich Jew, whose steps were bent towards Hirschberg, and it 
struck him at once to make him the instrument of accomplishing 
his end. He took the form and dress of the merry fellow who 
had mocked him, entered into friendly conversation with the 
Jew, and imperceptibly led him into a bye-path, where he seized 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



153 



him furiously by his beard, knocked him down, beat him, and 
robbed him of his purse, which contained a great deal of money 
and many jewels. After having kicked him with his feet, and 
beaten him with his hands by way of addition, he then left the 
poor plundered Jew half dead and despairing of life, in the midst 
of the bushes. 

When the Israelite had somewhat recovered from his fright, 
and felt that life was still in him, he began to lament, and call 
loudly for assistance, fearing he would perish in the solitude. A 
very respectable-looking man now came up to him, a citizen 
apparently from one of the neighbouring towns ; asked the reason 
of the clamour, and when he found him tied, loosened the bands 
from his hands and feet, and acted in every way the part of the 
Samaritan. He then led him to the high road, and accompanied 
him courteously until they reached Hirschberg ; and at the door 
of an inn, the stranger parted with him, after giving him suf- 
ficient money to defray the expense of a meal. What was the 
astonishment of the Jew when he entered the parlour of the inn, 
and beheld the very person who had robbed him sitting at the 
table as free and easy as a person only can be who is unconscious 
of having clone any evil. There stood before him a pint of the 
wine of the country, and he amused himself in all maimer of ways 
with a few other merry companions beside him. Beside him was 
the identical wallet into which he had seen him thrust the stolen 
purse. The amazed Jew could scarcely trust his eyes ; he with- 
drew into a corner, and took counsel with himself how to recover 
his lost property. It seemed impossible to be mistaken as to the 
person; he, therefore, quietly slipped out at the door, went to the 
magistrate, and offered his thief-salutation, (Diebesgruss). 1 

The Hirschberg magistrates and officials were at that time 
famed for their speedy administration of justice, when they were 
assured of their fees, and there was something to defray expenses; 
but, when they were to do their duty " ex officio, " and no per- 
quisites were to be had, here, as elsewhere, they went at a snail's 
pace. The experienced Israelite was well aware of this, and when 
he saw the magistrate hesitating to make out the warrant he 
alluded to the glittering "corpus delicti" and this golden hope 
soon expedited the matter. Policemen, armed with halberts and 
spears, surrounded the inn, seized the guiltless criminal, and 
brought him to the bar of justice, where the wise administrators 
had in the interim assembled. 

" Who art thou?" asked the severe judge, when the defendant 
was brought in ; " and from whence dost thou come V s 

" I am an honest tailor by trade," answered the youth, freely, 
and undismayed : "my name is Benedix; I come from Liebenau 
and am now at work here with my master." 

1 An old law term for the legal information given of a robbery. 



154 



POPULAR TALES. 



" Hast thou not murderously attacked this Jew in the wood ; 
beaten, bound him, and robbed him of his purse ?" 

"I have never seen this Jew with my eyes," answered the 
tailor; " neicher have I beaten him, bound him, or robbed him 
of his purse: I belong to an honest guild, and ran no high- 
wayman." 

" How canst thou prove thy respectability?" 

" By my passport, and the testimony of my good conscience." 

" Bring forth thy passport" 

Benedix cheerfully opened the wallet, well knowing that it 
contained nothing but what he had honestly earned. But as he 
emptied it, alas ! underneath the trifles which fell out was heard 
the rattling of gold. The policemen quickly laid hold of it, and 
drew forth the heavy purse, which the Jew, with great delight, 
claimed as his own, " deductis dedueendis ;'" that is, with the ex- 
ception of what was to go into the pockets of the magistrate and 
other officials. 

Poor Benedix stood as if thunderstruck, almost sinking with 
horror ; his face became pale, his lips quivered, his knees shook ; 
to speak was impossible. The judge's brow darkened ; his 
threatening countenance foreboded a severe sentence. 

" How now, criminal," thundered the high-bail iff; " art thou 
still daring enough to deny the robbery ?" 

" Be merciful, dread judge!" whined the unhappy culprit on 
his knees, and with up-raised hands. " I take all the Saints to 
witness that I am innocent of the robbery ; neither do I know 
how the purse of the Jew came into my wallet. Heaven only 
knows." 

" Thou art convicted," resumed the judge ; " the purse is suf- 
ficient proof; and now, in honour to God and to justice, confess 
openly the truth, before the torturer comes to wring it from your 
lips." 

The terrified Benedix could do nothing except insist that he 
was innocent; but he preached to deaf ears. He was thought a 
hardened thief, who denied his crime in order to save his neck. 
Master Hammerling, the stern investigator of truth, was called 
in, to induce our poor tailor, by the eloquence of Ms iron argu- 
ment, to confess, for the honour of God and the law, that he 
deserved death. The joyful support of a good conscience now 
entirely forsook the unfortunate youth, and he trembled before 
the torments which awaited him. As the torturer was on the 
point of applying the thumb-screw, he reflected that this opera- 
tion would for ever incapacitate him from handling his needle with 
honour ; and rather than be a mere quack in his trade all his life, he 
thought it would be as well to be done with it at once ; and thus 
he confessed himself guilty of a horrible crime, of which his heart 
knew nothing. The trial was immediately brought to an end ; 
the culprit condemned to be hanged ; and the sentence to be 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



155 



carried into execution early next morning, for the sake of render- 
ing speedy justice as well as to spare the expense of keeping the 
prisoner. 

All the spectators, who had been allured by the sittings of the 
high tribunal, found the sentence most wise and just ; but none 
exceeded the merciful Samaritan hi his applause, who had likewise 
found his way into the court. He seemed at a loss for words 
wherewith to extol the love of justice exhibited by the Lords of 
Hirschberg. In fact, no one had taken such deep interest in the 
affair as this friend of hiunanity, who had himself put the Jew's 
purse into the wallet of the journeyman, and was none other than 
our friend Rubezahl. 

Early next morning he waited, in the shape of a raven, near the 
gallows, for the funeral procession which was to accompany the 
victim of his revenge. Already he felt the ravenous desire to 
pick out his eyes ; but for this time he was disappointed. A 
worthy Monk who was employed to prepare Benedix for death, 
in order the better to effect his pious design, petitioned the court 
for three days' delay, and at length succeeded in obtaining it from 
the magistrate, though not without great trouble, and after many- 
threats of excommimication. When Rubezahl heard this he flew 
to the mountains there to await the time of the execution. 

In passing through the forests, as was his custom, he discovered 
a young girl resting underneath a shady tree. Her head sup- 
ported by a snow-white arm, drooped heavily on her bosom ; her 
dress was not rich, but neat, and in the fashion patronized by 
citizens' daughters. From time to time she wiped a tear from her 
cheek, and sighed deeply. The gnome had once before felt the 
mighty effect of a maiden's tears : even now he was so much 
touched by them that he deviated, for the first time, from the law 
he had laid down to himself, to annoy and torment all the children 
of Adam who came near the mountains. The softening feelings 
of compassion awakened in him the desire to comfort the dis- 
tressed beauty. He again took the form of a respectable citizen ; 
approached the young girl, and said. " Maiden, why dost thou 
mourn so lonely in this desolate place ? Hide not thy grief from 
me, that I may know how thou canst be helped." 

The maiden, absorbed in sadness, was startled at the sound of 
these words, and looked up. Her soft blue eyes, with their half- 
broken light, might have melted a heart of steel ; clear tears shone 
in them like diamonds ; her fair, pure, nunlike countenance, wore 
an expression of sorrow and grief which seemed to impart an 
additional charm to her natural loveliness, When she saw the 
I respectable citizen standing before her, she opened her ruby Hps, 
and said : " What is my grief to you, good sir, since nothing can 
help me ? I am a wretch, a murderess ; I have destroyed the one 
I most love, and must expiate my crime in tears and sorrow 
until death shall break my heart." 



156 



POPULAR TALES. 



At this the honourable man was astonished. " Thou a mur- 
deress! " he exclaimed; " with such a heavenly face, does wicked- 
ness dwell in thy heart? Impossible! Mankind are, indeed, 
capable of all sorts of deceit and evil ; but this is a riddle to me." 

" I will solve it for you, if you wish," replied the disconsolate 
maiden. 

" Do so," answered Riibezahl. 

" From my early childhood I had a playfellow, the son of a 
virtuous widow, a neighbour of ours, who, when he grew up, 
wooed me for his bride. He was so good and kind, so faithful and 
true, his love so constant and pure, that he won my heart, and I 
vowed perpetual faith. Alas ! the mind of the beloved youth 
I have poisoned, adder-like ; I made him forget the virtuous 
precepts of his good mother, and have induced him to commit a 
crhne for which he has forfeited his life." 

The gnome exclaimed, emphatically, " Thou ! " 

" Yes," she replied, " I am his nmrderess ; I have caused him 
to commit highway robbery; to plunder some knavish Jew: the 
Lords of Hirschberg have laid hold of him, tried him ; and, alas ! 
alas ! to-morrow is the day appointed for his execution." 

" And this has been caused by thee?" asked Riibezahl, won- 
deringly. 

" Yes, sir ; his young blood lies on my conscience." 
"How so?" 

" When his apprenticeship was done, in order to improve in his 
trade, he went over the mountains to visit the towns ; at the hour 
of parting, when taking the last farewell, he said, ' Sweet love, 
be true to me. When the apple-tree shall blossom for the third 
time, and the swallow prepare its nest, I shall return from my 
wanderings, to bring thee home as my young bride.' And I faithfully 
promised to keep my vow. Now the apple-tree blossoms for the 
third time, the swallow is building its nest, and Benedix did return, 
reminded me of my promise, and sought to lead me to the altar. 
But I teazingly mocked him, as sometimes maidens do their lovers. 
I said, i I cannot be thy bride, for thou hast neither house nor 
money ; and my little chamber is too small for two. First get 
bright coins, and then come and ask again.' At these words the 
poor youth became very sad. ' Ah, Clara ! ' he sighed, with tears 
in his eyes, ' carest thou for nothing but riches and gold ? then 
art thou no longer the faithful maiden thou wert wont to be ! 
Didst thou not grasp this hand, and pledge thy word to be true 
and faithful ? And what had I then more than this hand, where- 
with to support thee ? From what proceeds thy pride and vain 
desires ? Alas, Clara ! I understand ; a richer wooer has turned 
thy heart away from me. Is it thus that thou rewardest me, 
thou faithless one ! Three such years have I spent in tedious 
languor for this hour, when I was to come and claim thee as my 
bride ! How were my steps winged with joy and hope as I came 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



157 



over the mountains ; and now thou rejectest me ! ' He earnestly 
entreated more and more ; but I was firm in my determination. 

" 'My heart does not reject thee, Benedix,' I replied; ' it is 
only my hand which for the present I withhold. Away! make 
more money! and when thou hast been successful, return, and 
then I shall become thy wife.' 

" 'Well/ said he in anger, ' since this is thy will, I go into the 
world. I shall run, beg, borrow, become a miser, steal, or do 
any thing; so that thou shalt not again see me until I have 
obtained the vain price, without which I am not to have thee. 
Farewell ! I go.' 

" In this way did I bewilder the poor Benedix ; he departed in 
wrath; his good angel left him; he did what was not right; and 
what his heart, I am certain, abhorred." 

The worthy citizen shook his head at this speech ; and after a 
pause, with a thoughtful look, he exclaimed, " Wonderful !" and 
turned towards the maiden. " But why," he asked, " dost thou 
fill the forest with thy lamentations, which can be of no avail 
either to thy lover or to thyself?" 

"Good sir," she replied, "I was on my way to Hirschberg, 
but sorrow so oppressed me, that I was obliged to rest for a time 
under this tree." 

" And what wilt thou do in Hirschberg?" 

"I will fall at the feet of the judge, fill the town with my 
lamentations, and the daughters of the city will aid me in 
imploring the judge to be merciful, to have compassion, and spare 
the life of the innocent youth. Should I not succeed in saving 
my betrothed from ignominious death, then will I gladly die with 
him." 

The spirit was so much touched by these words, that he 
forgot all at once his revenge, and resolved to give the young 
sorrowing girl her lover again. " Dry up thy tears," he said, 
with a look of sympathy, " and banish thy grief. Before the sun 
sinks to rest thy lover shall be free. To-morrow morning, when 
the first cock crows, be awake and watchful, and when a finger 
taps at thy window, open the door of thy little chamber, for it 
will be Benedix who stands there ; but, beware of bewildering 
him again by thy folly : know, likewise, that he has not committed 
the crime of which thou believest him guilty, and thou, too, art 
free from sin, for thy wilfulness did not induce him to perpetrate 
so foul a deed." 

The maiden, astonished at this speech, gazed earnestly at the 
speaker, but as his countenance bore neither the expression of 
deceit, nor of waggishness, she gained confidence, her clouded 
brow brightened up, and she said, with a kind of cheerful hesi- 
tation, " Good sir, if you do not mock me, and it be as you say, 
then must you be a seer, or the guardian angel of my poor lover, 
to know all this so well." 



158 



POPULAR TALES. 



"His guardian angel!" said Rubezahl, somewhat confused, 
" truly I am not; but I may become so, and tliou shalt bear how. 
I am a citizen of Hirschberg, and was one of the council when tbe 
poor fellow was convicted ; but bis innocence has been brought to 
light, and fear not for his life. I shall go and free him from his 
bonds, for I have much influence in the town. Be comforted, and 
return home in peace." 

The maiden did as she was bidden, though fear and hope still 
struggled in her heart. 

The pious Monk was just leaving the dungeon, and for the last 
time had wished the inconsolable criminal good night, when 
Rubezahl met him at the entrance, invisible of course, and still 
quite undecided how he should restore the poor tailor to liberty, 
without depriving the great ones of Hirschberg of the pleasure of 
exercising their ancient prerogatives of crhninal jurisdiction; for 
the magistrates had won from Rubezahl golden opinions, by their 
prompt administration of justice. Suddenly, he hit upon a plan 
which was quite to his mind. He quietly followed the monk to his 
cloister, took a robe, and appeared again with a grey cassock at 
the door of the prison, which the jailer most respectfully opened 
to him. 

" My anxiety for thy welfare, 5 ' he began, "brings me once more 
here, though I had but scarcely left thee. Say on, my son, does 
there yet remain any thing burthening thy breast, for which I 
maybe able to comfort thee? Dost thou still think of Clara: 
dost thou still love her as thy bride ? If thou hast any message 
to send her before thy death, confide it to me." 

Benedix was still more astonished when he heard that name. 
The memory of his love, which he had most conscientiously 
laboured to suppress, now rushed so impetuously into his heart, 
that he wept and sobbed aloud, and was utterly incapable of 
pronouncing a single word. This heart-rending sight excited the 
compassion of our kind monk to such a degree, that he was 
resolved to bring the matter at once to an end. 

" Poor Benedix, '" he said, "be calm and undismayed; thou 
shalt not die. I have been informed that thou art guiltless of 
the robbery, and that thy hand is unsoiled by crime ; I am, 
therefore, come to deliver thee from prison, and to free thee 
from thy chains." He then took a key from his pocket. " Let 
us see whether it can unlock these doors." The attempt was 
successful; the prisoner was unchained; the fetters had fallen 
from his hands and feet. The good-natured seeming Monk then 
exchanged dresses with him, and said, " Go, and walk through 
the crowd of jailers and turnkeys, and along the streets, demurely 
.as a monk; then, when thou hast left the town and its jurisdiction 
behind thee, hasten towards the mountains, and do not rest until 
thou readiest Liebenau, and Clara's door: knock softly, — there 
thy bride anxiously awaits thy coming." 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



159 



Our honest Benedix fancied it was all a dream ; he rubbed his 
eyes, pinched his legs and arms, to see whether he was awake or 
asleep, and when he saw how matters really were, he embraced 
the knees of his deliverer, and rested in mute joy, for not a word 
could he say. The good-hearted monk forced him away, giving 
him, for his journey, a loaf of bread and a sausage. With totter- 
ing steps the youth passed the threshold of the melancholy prison, 
dreading every moment to be recognised. 

Clara in the meanwhile sat sadly thinking in her little chamber, 
listening to every movement caused by the wind, and watching 
the footsteps of every passer by. It often seemed to her as if the 
window shutters were rattling, or as if she heard a knock; her 
heart beat; she looked out, but was disappointed. 

The cocks in the neighbourhood already shook their feathers, 
and announced by their crowing the coming day. The bell of the 
monastery sounded for early matins, which was to her like a 
death-knell. 

The watchman blew his horn for the last time to awaken the 
sleeping housemaids to their early day's work. Clara's lamp began 
to burn dimly, now deficient in oil; her anxiety increased every 
moment, and did not permit her to perceive the beautiful rose 
which, as a propitious omen, gleamed up from the glimmering 
wick. She sat on her bedstead, wept bitterly, and sighed, " Bene- 
dix, Benedix, what a sorrowful day for thee and for me is now 
dawning." She ran towards the window : — alas, blood-red seemed 
the sky in the direction of Hirschberg, and dark clouds like crape 
and mournful drapery floated over the horizon. She shuddered at 
this ominous sight, and fell into a gloomy reverie: the silence of 
death was around her. 

From this she was aroused by three soft taps at the window"; a 
shiver ran through her veins; she jumped up, gave a loud cry, 
for a voice whispered through the opening, " Dearest love, art 
thou awake?" " Ah, Benedix ! is it thyself or thy spirit ?" she ex- 
claimed, rushing quickly to the door; but when she saw the friar, 
she sunk down, almost dying with horror. His faithful arm, 
however, soon raised her up, and the kiss of affection (that great 
remedy for all sorts of hysterics) brought her speedily back to life 
again. 

When the surprise was over, and the first effusion of feeling 
had somewhat subsided, Benedix related his wonderful escape 
from the prison; but his tongue clove to his mouth from thirst 
and fatigue. Clara brought him some fresh water, after drinking 
which he felt hungry. She had nothing to give him, save the 
usual panacea of lovers, bread and salt, with which they at times 
too hastily make a vow to be contented and happy all the days of 
their life. Benedix now thought of his sausage, took it from his 
pocket, amazed to find it heavier than a horse's shoe. He broke 
it open, and behold pure gold pieces fell out of it, at which Clara 



160 



POPULAR TALES. 



was much frightened, thinking it was a shameless relic of the 
shocking robbery of the Jew, and that Benedix, after all, was not 
so innocent as the respectable citizen, who met her on the moun- 
tain, had made her believe. 

But when the honest fellow assured her that the good Monk 
had given him the secret treasure, probably as a marriage gift, 
she was satisfied. 

Both blessed with grateful hearts their generous benefactor, 
left the place and went to Prague, where Master Benedix lived 
much respected with his wife Clara, and many sons and daughters. 

The dread of punishment, however, had taken such deep root 
within him, that he always dealt fairly with his customers, and 
quite against the nature and the practice of his companions in 
the trade, he never clipped off the smallest piece of cloth en- 
trusted to his care. 

Early that same morning, when Clara shivering with joy, heard 
the knock of her lover at the window, a finger knocked likewise 
at the door of the jail at Hirschberg. 

It was the worthy father himself, who came to accompany the 
criminal in his last hours. Rubezahl had undertaken to play the 
part of the culprit, and was determined to uphold that character 
throughout, in honour of the administration of justice. 

And now the fatal sign was given, and Rlibezahl subjected 
himself quietly to all the formalities which had to be gone 
through. By and by, however, he began to shake the rope about 
at such a rate that the executioner was frightened beyond measure ; 
and the populace were becoming noisy, and some expressed a 
wish to stone him, for making the poor fellow suffer more than 
was needful. To prevent this, Rubezahl feigned to be dead. 
When the crowd had dispersed and only a few persons remained 
near to look on, the merry spirit began his play again, and ter- 
rified the beholders by making the most hideous grimaces. In con- 
sequence, a rumour was spread abroad towards evening that the 
criminal could not die, and was dancing on the place of execution. 

The Senate was then induced to inquire into the matter, and 
early next morning commissioned a deputation for that purpose. 
When the commissioners arrived at the place of execution, they 
found nothing but a small bundle of straw covered with rags, 
such as people are wont to place in the fields or gardens to scare 
away dainty sparrows. At this, the officials of Hirschberg were 
greatly amazed ; they thought it best, however, to burn the man 
of straw privately and bury his memory, at the same time spread- 
ing a report, that the strong wind during the night had blown 
the slender tailor far away over the boundaries of the town. 




heeding whether the poor sufferer were a worthy man or a rogue, 
Sometimes, in the garb of a peasant, he would join himself to a 
solitary traveller on his way, and, pretending to direct him the 
shortest way, would send him ever so far out of his road ; and 
then, perhaps, like an ignis fatuus, leading him into a morass, he 
would reveal himself suddenly in his proper form and vanish, 
amidst a peal of laughter. Another favourite trick of his was to 
waylay the countrymen returning from market, and suddenly to 
appear before them, and chace them in the form of some frightful 

*l monster, till the poor creatures were almost terrified out of their 
wits. However, to the credit of Rubezahl, it may be said, that he 

i was tolerably just in his dealings, and that when he inflicted 

I punishment it was upon those who in reality deserved it. 

N But there was one crime which never failed to call down the 
vengeance of the Giant-lord, even if the culprit was in other 
respects ever so innocent and praiseworthy. This crime was no 
other than calling the Mountain Spirit by the name of Rubezahl, and 
there were, of course, good reasons why he had strictly forbidden 

P 3 



162 



POPULAR TALES. 



tins cognomen. To have any chance, therefore, of being kindly 
treated by the gnome, it was necessary, above all things, to avoid 
this name, and to salute him respectfully as the " Lord of the 
Mountain.". 

Tradition tells, that there was once a physician who went to 
gather herbs on the Riesengebirg, and who was frequently joined 
by Riibezahl, sometimes in one guise, sometimes in another, and 
was very courteously assisted by him in his botanical researches. 
One day he appeared as a woodcutter, and began by professing 
to instruct the doctor in the properties and uses of various herbs, 
of which the latter had never before heard. The learned physi- 
cian, however, did not quite relish the idea of a poor woodcutter 
knowing more of these subjects than himself, and he exclaimed, 
with some warmth, " Sirrah, do you pretend to teach a physician 
the knowledge of herbs ? Well, now, since you are so wise, tell 
me whether came first — the oak or the acorn?" " The oak," an- 
swered the gnome, "for the fruit proceeds from the tree." 
" Fool," cried the physician, " how then came the first oak if not 
from an acorn, which is the germ of the tree?" " That," replied the 
woodcutter, very humbly, " is a question beyond me, and which 
I leave to wiser heads to resolve. But let me also put a question 
to you. "Who is the proprietor of this piece of ground where we 
now are? The King of Silesia or the Lord of the Mountain?" 
" The ground," replied the doctor, " belongs of course to the King 
of Silesia. As to him you call the Lord of the Mountain, or, as 
I call him, Riibezahl, the Turnip Counter, there is, I assure you, 
no such person; he is a mere bugbear; a name to frighten chil- 
dren and ignorant people with, and nothiug more." Scarcely had 
he spoken when the form of the woodcutter rose into gigantic 
proportions, and the redoubtable spirit himself appeared before 
the astonished physician, and roared in a furious tone, " Riibezahl! 
scoundrel — I'll teach thee to talk of Riibezahl;" and with this he 
laid hold of the unlucky doctor by the neck, shook him and beat 
him till life was hardly left in him, and then let him find his 
way home from the Giant Mountains as he best could. The poor 
fellow never fully recovered the effects of his drubbing, and as 
long as he lived he was never found botanizing again on the 
domains of the Lord of the Mountain. 

We must give an instance, however, of the benevolent way in 
which the gnome could conduct himself when he chose. A coun- 
tryman of Richenberg was once reduced from various causes to 
a state of great poverty, and even disposed of his farm and his 
flocks ; and, to add to his distress, he had a wife and six children 
to support. **If we could contrive to borrow," said he one day 
to his disconsolate wife, " a hundred dollars, we might purchase 
another farm, and thus retrieve our circumstances. You have 
wealthy relations on the other side of the mountains, what if I 
should go to them and ask them for assistance; — perhaps they may 



LEGENDS OF KULEZ^E:L i 



LEGENDS OF 11UBEZAHL. 



163 



compassiouate us, and lend us the money we need, to be repaid 
with interest." 

The dejected wife assented to the proposal, because she knew 
of nothing better to be done. Whereupon Veit put a dry- 
crust of bread into his pocket, and went his way. Worn and 
wearied by the heat of the day and the long journey, he reached, 
in the evening, the village, where the rich cousins dwelt, but none 
of them would acknowledge him; not one of them would receive 
him. With burning tears he related to them his misery ; but the 
hard-hearted misers paid no heed to his words, and wounded the 
feelings of the poor man by reproaches and insulting proverbs. 
One said, "Young blood, spare your strength ;" the second, " Pride 
comes before a fall;" the third, " Act well and you will fare well;" 
the fourth, " Every one forges his own fortune." In this manner 
they scorned and mocked him; called him a spendthrift and a 
lazy fellow, and at last drove him out of the house, sending the 
house dog after him. Such a reception from the rich relations of 
his wife, the poor cousin had never contemplated; confounded 
and sad, he slunk away, and as he had nothing to pay for a lodg- 
ing at the inn, he was obliged to pass the night in a field upon a 
hay-rick. Here he sleeplessly awaited the return of day, to begin 
his homeward journey. 

As he again approached the mountains, grief and sorrow so over- 
came him that he was on the brink of despair. Two days' wages 
lost, thought he to himself, languid and weakened by hunger and 
grief; without hope, without consolation! When you return 
home, and the six starving children stretch out their hands to 
you for bread, asking for food, when you have, instead, only a 
stone to offer; father-heart! father-heart! how wilt thou endure 
that ? Break in two, poor heart, before thou feelest such anguish ! 
Saying these words, he threw himself beneath a bush to indulge 
in his gloomy thoughts. 

As the mind, however, at the moment of extremity, puts forth 
its most powerful energy, ransacking every corner of thought to 
find out some means of preservation, or to delay the coming evil; 
and as a sailor who sees his vessel fast sinking, quickly climbs 
the rope-ladder, seeking safety by the tall mast, or laying hold 
of plank or empty cask, in the hope of keeping himself afloat; — 
so it occurred to the unhappy Veit, in the midst of a thousand 
useless plans and projects, to turn for relief from his misery 
to the Spirit of the Mountain. He had heard many strange 
tales of him, how he had sometimes lured and tormented tra- 
vellers, and done them much harm, yet, at the same time, how 
he had likewise shown kindness to others. It was well known to 
Veit that the spirit punished all those who called on him by his 
nickname; but he knew no other way of accosting him, so he 
therefore ventured at the risk of a cudgelling, and called out as 
loud as he could, " Riibezahl ! Rubezahl ! " 



164 



POPULAR TALES.. 



There immediately appeared at this call a form like that of a 
grim collier or charcoal burner, with a red beard reaching down 
to his waist, fiery, staring eyes, and armed with a huge cudgel 
like a weaver's beam, now raised in wrath to strike the daring 
scorner. " Your favour, Master Rubezahl," said Veit, quite undis- 
mayed, " pardon me if I do not give you your right title — only hear 
me, and then do whatever you like. This candid speech and the 
sorrowful appearance of the man, which betrayed neither insolence 
nor pertness, softened in some degree the anger of the spirit. 
" Earthworm," he said, " what tempts you to disturb me? Do 
you not know that you must pay for your rashness with your 
neck and skin?" " Sir," replied Veit, "it is trouble which com- 
pels me to this. I have a request to make, which you could 
easily grant. If you would lend me a hundred dollars I will 
repay them at the end of three years, with the usual interest, as 
sure as I am an honest man." " Fool! " said the spirit, "am I a 
Jew, or an usurer, to lend money upon interest? Away to your 
brother man and borrow there what you need, but leave me in 
peace." " Ah," replied Veit, "it is all over with brotherly kind- 
ness. There is no brotherhood in mine and thine" Upon this 
he related his story from the beginning, and painted his deep 
misery so touchingly, that the gnome could not refuse his peti- 
tion, And even had the poor fellow been less deserving of com- 
passion, there was something so novel and singular to the spirit 
in the idea of becoming a capitalist and lending out money, that 
he was inclined, for the sake of the confidence reposed in him, to 
grant the prayer of the man. " Come, follow me," he said, leading 
him through the wood to a remote valley, and stopping at a steep 
rock, whose base was hid by thick bushes. 

When Veit, with no small trouble, had forced his way through 
the thicket, by the side of his conductor, they reached the mouth 
of a dark cave. The good Veit was not over-well pleased to be 
obliged thus to grope in the dark: one cold shiver after another run 
through him, and his hair stood on end. He very soon, however, 
saw, to his great joy, a blue flame nickering in the distance; the 
cavern became enlarged to the size of a spacious hall, the flame 
burned clear, and floated as a pendant lamp in the centre of the 
rocky chamber. Upon the floor he espied a brewer's copper, 
filled to the brim, with hard bright dollars. When Veit saw this 
treasure, all his fear fled, and his heart leapt for joy. "Take," 
said the spirit, " what you need, be it little or be it much, only 
give me an acknowledgment for the sum, provided you are 
skilled in the art of writing." The debtor assented, and counted 
out to himself, conscientiously, the hundred dollars, not one more, 
not one less. The spirit appeared to pay no attention to the 
counting out of the money, but turned himself away, and sought 
for his writing materials. Veit wrote the bond, and made it as 
binding as possible; the gnome then locked it up in an iron box, 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



165 



and said to Veit, on parting, " Go hence, and with diligent hand, 
make use of the money. Forget not that thou art my debtor, 
and mark well the entrance into the dell, and the cleft in the rock. 
As soon as three years are past, pay me back the capital with 
the interest. I am a stern creditor, and should you break faith, I 
will come in fury and demand it." The honest Veit promised 
faithfully to pay on the very day, though without an oath, and 
without pledging his soul and happiness, as bad payers are 
accustomed to do, and then departed from his benefactor of the 
rock with a grateful heart, easily finding his way out of the 
cavern. 

The hundred dollars had such a beneficial influence both on 
mind and body, that he needed no other strengthening; wiien he 
again saw the morning light, he felt as if he had inhaled the bal- 
sam of life w r hilst in the rocky cave. Joyful and strong he now 
stept towards his home, and entered the lonesome hut about 
nightfall ; when the famishing children beheld him, they came all 
towards him, crying, "Bread, father! a morsel of bread! You 
have long let us want." The sad mother sat weeping in a corner, 
fearing the worst, according to the manner of thinking of the 
weak and timid, and expected her husband to begin a melan- 
choly tale. He, however, shook hands cheerily, commanded a 
fire to be kindled on the hearth, as he had brought groats and 
millet from Reichenberg in his wallet, with which the good woman 
was to make pottage so thick that the spoon could stand in it. 
Afterwards he gave her an account of the happy consequences of 
his journey. Your cousins, said he, are excellent people; they did 
not upbraid me with my poverty, did not misapprehend me, or 
drive me shamefully from their door ; but they kindly took me 
in, opened to me heart and hand, and counted out to me on the 
table a hundred dollars in cash, as a loan. Upon this the heavy 
weight was taken from the heart of the poor woman, which had 
long oppressed her. Had we applied sooner, she said, to the 
right smith we might have been spared much misery. She now 
boasted of the relationship, of which she had never known any 
good before, and became quite proud of her rich cousins. 

Her husband willingly gave her this pleasure, so flattering to 
her vanity, after the many sorrows she had experienced. As she, 
however, never ceased speaking of her rich cousins, and passed 
many days in doing nothing else, Veit at last became worn out 
with the loud praises of the avaricious churls, and said to his wife, 
" When I was at the right forge, do you know what the master 
smith gave me as a piece of good advice?" " What?" asked his 
wife. "That every one was the smith of his own fortune; and 
we must strike the iron while it is hot; therefore, let us begin, 
and diligently set to work, and follow our occupation, so that from 
our earnings we may be able, in three years, to repay the loan 
with its interest, and be free from all debt." Veit then bought an 



166 



POPULAR TALES. 



acre of land, and a hay-field, then another, and another, until at 
last he bought a hide of land. There was a blessing in Riibezahl's 
money, as if a keek 1 dollar were in it. Veit sowed and reaped, 
and was soon looked up to in the village as a well-doing man, 
and his purse enabled him, from his small capital, to extend his 
possessions. The third summer he had added to his fields an 
estate which brought him much increase : in short, he was one 
who prospered in all he did. 

The day of payment now drew near, and Veit had saved so 
much, that he was able, without difficulty, to repay his debt. 
He laid down the money to be ready, and on the appointed day 
was early astir, awoke his wife, and all his children; ordered them 
to comb their hair, wash their faces, and put on their Sunday clothes ; 
also their new shoes, and scarlet jackets, and kerchiefs, which 
they had never yet worn. He himself donned his best, and called 
out from the window, " Hans, put to the horses." " Husband, what 
are you about?" asked his wife ; " to-day there is neither festival 
nor church-going ; what has put you in such good spirits, that 
you are preparing us for a merrymaking; and where are you going 
to take us ?" He answered, " I am going to the rich cousins on 
the other side of the mountain, to visit the creditor who helped 
me by his loan, and to repay my debt with interest, for this is the 
pay day." This pleased the lady very much ; she adorned herself 
and the children in a stately manner, so that the rich cousins 
might have a good opinion of her circumstances, and that they 
might not be ashamed of her, she strung a row of crooked ducats 
round her neck. 

Veit shook the heavy bag with the money, took care of it him- 
self, and when all was ready, he set out with his wife and chil- 
dren. Hans whipped on the four steeds, and they drove merrily 
over the plain towards the Giant mountains. 

Before a steep narrow pass, Veit ordered the rumbling vehicle 
to stop. He came out, and made the others do the same ; then 
told the servant, Hans, to go slowly up the hill, and to wait for 
them above, under the three linden trees ; saying, likewise, that 
should they be rather long in coming, not to trouble himself, but 
just to let the horses take breath, and crop a bit of grass, as he 
knew a footpath which, though somewhat longer, was pleasant to 
walk upon. He then took the lead of his wife and children through 
the wood and thick bushes, wandered backwards and forwards, 
until his wife thought her husband had lost his way, and exhorted 
him to turn back, and follow the common road. Veit, however, 
suddenly stood still, gathered his six children around him, and then 
said, " You fancy, dear wife, that we are on our way to visit your 
kinsfolk, but that is not my intention. Your rich cousins are 
niggards and rascals, who, when in my poverty I sought from 

1 A dollar, supposed to have the faculty of multiplying itself. 



LEGENDS OF RUBEZAHL. 



167 



them comfort and support, ridiculed and scorned me, and drove 
me with insolence from them. Here dwells the rich cousin to 
whom we are indebted for our prosperity, and who lent me, on 
my word, the money which has increased so much in my hands. 
He appointed this day as the time when I was to return it with 
interest. Do you now know who our creditor is ? The Prince 
of the Mountain, called Rubezahl ! " 

At these words his wife was violently affected, bent herself 
before a large cross, and the children trembled with terror and 
dread, lest their father should take them to Rubezahl. They had 
heard a great deal about him in the spinning-room, that he was a 
horrible giant, a destroyer of men, and so on. Veit related to them his 
whole adventure — how he had appeared at his call, in the form of 
a collier, and how he had acted towards him in the cave— praised 
his benevolence, with a grateful heart, and with such deep emo- 
tion, that the warm tears flowed down his sunburnt cheeks. 
" Wait here," he continued, "whilst I go into the cave to finish 
my business. Fear nothing ; I shall not remain long away ; and 
if I can prevail on the Mountain Spirit, I will bring him to see 
you. Shun not to shake hands heartily with your benefactor, 
though his hands should be black or sooty ; he will do you no 
harm, and will certainly rejoice in his own good deeds, and hi our 
gratitude. Only take courage, he will give you golden apples 
and spice-nuts." 

Although the anxious wife endeavoured to dissuade him from 
his journey to the cave in the rock, and though the children, sob- 
bing and weeping, strove to keep him back, by surrounding him, 
and taking hold of the folds of his coat, he nevertheless tore him- 
self from them by force, went into the thicket, and soon reached 
the well-known rock. He drew forth the heavy bag of money, 
rattled the hard dollars, and called out as loudly as he could, 
"Spirit of the Mountain, come and take thine own!" But 
no Rubezahl appeared; nor, after the most diligent search, could 
Veit find the cave or the door by which he had formerly entered. 

Thus the honest debtor was obliged to return back with his 
money-bag. As soon as his wife and children caught a glimpse 
of Mm, they hastened joyfully to meet him : he was out of humour 
and much distressed that he could not give the payment to the 
proper person, and sat down upon a bank to consider what was 
now to be done. His former venture again occurred to him. 
" I will call on the Spirit by his nickname. Should it displease 
him, he may cudgel me, and knock me as he has a mind ; at all 
events, he will certainly hear the call." So he shouted with all 
his might, " Rubezahl ! Rubezahl ! " His anxious wife entreated 
him to be silent, and tried to shut his mouth; but Veit would 
not be controlled, and only called out the more. Suddenly, the 
youngest child rushed to its mother, screaming, " Ah ! the black 
man ! " Quite pleased, Veit asked where. " There — he lurks 



168 



POPULAR TALES. 



behind that tree :" and all the children crept together, trembling 
with fear, and crying bitterly. The father looked round, but saw 
nothing ; it was a delusion — a shadow only. In short, Rubezahl 
never made his appearance, and all Veit's shouting was in vain. 

The family caravan now retraced its steps, and father Veit, 
sad and sorrowful, went towards the high road, which lay before 
them. A soft rustling sound among the trees came from the 
wood ; the slender birches bent their heads, and the tremulous 
foliage of the aspen was gently stirred : the sound came nearer ; 
the wind waved the far-spread branches of the oak, and drove before 
it the withered leaves, raising up on the road small clouds of dust, 
with which the children amused themselves ; thinking no longer 
of Rubezahl, but chasing the dry leaves with which the wind 
sported. Among the withering foliage, a piece of paper was 
blown across their path, which the young spirit seer ran after. 
Just when about to catch it, the wind raised it up, and whirled it 
farther away, so that he could not lay hold of it. He, however, 
threw his hat after it, which at last covered it; it was a beautiful 
white sheet of paper, and as the economical father was accustomed 
to take care of the most trifling thing in his house, the child 
brought to him what he had found, in the hope of obtaining a 
little praise. When the paper was unrolled to see what it con- 
tained, it was found to be the bond which Veit had drawn up and 
given to the Spirit of the Mountain, torn in half, and under- 
neath was written — fully discharged. When Veit perceived this, 
he was deeply affected, and exclaimed, in great joy, "Dear wife 
and children, rejoice with me; he has seen us, heard our thanks; 
our benefactor, who invisibly floats around us, knows that Veit is 
an honest man. I am now free from my promise, so let us return 
home with glad hearts." Parents and children wept many tears 
of joy and gratitude, until they again reached their conveyance. 
As the mother had a great desire to visit her relations, and to 
reprove them for their cruelty, they drove quickly down the moun- 
tain, and in the evening stopped at the same farm-house from 
which Veit had been driven away three years before. This time 
he knocked boldly at the door, and asked for the master. A 
person who was a total stranger and unknown to them appeared; 
from whom they learnt that the household of the rich cousins was 
broken up. The one was dead, the other ruined, and the third 
had left the place. Their places were no longer to be found in 
the community. 

Veit and his companions remained over the night with the 
hospitable landlord, who detailed everything to them. The next 
day Veit returned home to his occupations, increased in wealth 
and in lands, and continued to be an upright, as well as a pros- 
perous man all the days of his life. 

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